


The Consolations of a Summer's Day

by blamebrampton



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-14
Updated: 2012-07-14
Packaged: 2017-11-09 23:06:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 32,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/459489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blamebrampton/pseuds/blamebrampton
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry Potter is absolutely certain Draco Malfoy did not murder Pansy Parkinson. He’s <i>almost</i> absolutely certain he can prove this without sacrificing his career and having them both hauled up before the Wizengamot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [treacle_tartlet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/treacle_tartlet/gifts).



> **Warning:** Dead Pansy Parkinson before the start of the story. And at the end, too, plus in the middle. No Zombie Pansy, that would be wrong.
> 
> Anyone JKR left alive at the end of _Deathly Hallows_ is alive in this fic, regardless of what the films say! Thanks to the prompter for such a fun prompt: working your additions of tattoo and trench coat in was easy, the tiepin, on the other hand, alas … look, feel free to assume Ron is wearing one! Thank you very much to the mods who run an excellent fest and show enormous compassion towards the chronically slow! And especial thanks to Jadzialove and Raitala, the finest betas, Balt-picker and sanity checkers a writer could have! Any remaining mistakes are due to my inability to correctly make their edits.

In the seven years since Harry Potter had joined the Aurors, he had never once asked for a favour. 

He had put his head down, worked hard, trained harder, made cups of tea for everyone when they were stuck doing late-night paperwork and quite frequently remembered his co-workers’ birthdays. When sundry papers and Wireless shows ran their semi-regular Boy Who Lived specials, he put up stoically with his colleagues’ teasing and began a genuinely funny campaign for Ron Weasley to retrain as a Dark Overlord so someone else could defeat him and take the media attention.

So when he demanded the Malfoy case, and refused to listen to any suggestion that it might be a bit of a mistake for him to get involved, everyone in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement breathed a great sigh of relief, and went home to tell their families that Potter wasn’t just one of the lads, he was also human, after all.

****************************

‘This way, Auror Potter.’ 

Uurija Evald Kask had worked with Potter twice before, but they had been active cases, where Potter had been on the trail of a bad ‘un. Those cases had seen the two of them flying over the Baltic scouring islands in the soft light of dawn, then laughing in the Ministeerium at the conclusion of the chase, sharing bottles of whatever was to hand. 

Then he had been Harry, and nothing like the papers. Today, he was a grim and serious official, and had greeted Evald with a dour ‘Uurija’, before handing over the paperwork for the prisoner transfer. 

Evald’s English was as good as his Russian, French and German, so the formal tone of Potter’s language was not lost on him. He escorted him through the ancient building that housed their Law Enforcement offices, and left him in the official visiting room, with promises to return swiftly. 

He had sent Potter’s paperwork on ahead, and the prisoner’s advocate had been informed, too. A memo flew down from the paperstream above Evald’s head as he entered the secure area to let him know that the advocate would be able to join them within the quarter hour. 

Anu and Feliks were guarding the main doors today, lucky for Evald, as Feliks still owed him for last week’s card losses, and Anu was always good for a laugh. Later, of course, after the Potter business had been squared away. 

‘Uurija Kask for the British prisoner,’ he declared for the record. 

‘Uurija Tamm will escort you to his cell,’ Anu replied, with a wink as she opened the security door.

The inspector on the other side of the door held a clipboard and quill and had clearly just finished signing the top form as the door opened.

‘Evald,’ he said, looking up with a smile.

‘Hi, Veigo. I’m here to collect our guest.’

‘Right this way. I’m almost sorry to see him go, he’s been quiet as a lamb. Not like the usual lot we get in here.’ 

‘Harry Potter is here to pick him up.’

Veigo’s eyebrows expressed surprise. ‘I thought he was their Deputy Chief Auror?’

‘I think there is something going on. Potter is …’

‘Did you say Potter?’ A voice rang out from behind the wooden door they were approaching. ‘Come on, Veigo, you know I only have six words of Estonian. It sounded for all the world as though your friend’s just said Potter. Twice.’

Veigo Tamm opened the door and switched to English. ‘Yes, Draco. He did. Harry Potter will be your escort back to England.’

‘Bugger.’ Draco Malfoy sat down heavily on the not-uncomfortable bed that occupied a good portion of his cell.

Evald exchanged a glance with Veigo. That would certainly explain Potter’s tension, as well as Malfoy’s obvious dismay. 

‘By which I mean “bloody hell, damn and blast”,’ Malfoy added, correctly interpreting the Estonians’ expressions.

‘Well, you can petition against the extradition,’ Veigo reminded him. ‘Your advokaat is on her way, we can delay your meeting with Potter until she gets here. There is no need for you to see him without legal representation.’

Malfoy smiled weakly. ‘Of all the legal systems to be entangled in, I’m very glad it ended up being yours, Veigo. But I should probably have a word with Potter before Advokaat Ruohonen arrives. I suspect it will be for the best.’

Tamm gave a friendly smile in reply. ‘All right, Draco. I’ll keep your room ready for you if you want to come back. This is Evald, Uurija Kask, he’ll be taking over your custody.’

‘You’re a decent person, Veigo. Many thanks. Despite the circumstances, it’s been a pleasure meeting you.’

‘And you.’

Evald wasn’t surprised when Veigo shook hands with the prisoner. Being held by the Ministeerium did not equate to being tried and convicted, and they had had many an innocent wizard and witch pass through their cells. By all accounts, the Englishman had been a model of decorum. Evald found himself half-hoping he was innocent. The alternative was … well, he did not like to consider the effect it would have on Veigo. Or Potter, for that matter.

They did not chat on their journey to the visiting room, but Evald thought it only fair to give Malfoy warning. 

‘The visiting room is at the end of this corridor,’ he announced. ‘Auror Potter is already waiting inside. You can still choose to wait for Advokaat Ruohonen, or I can accompany you in and stay with you, if you desire.’

Malfoy pressed his lips together for a moment, but then shook his head. ‘No, I’ll be fine alone. Thank you.’

They covered a few more steps before Malfoy stopped, suddenly.

‘Is he angry?’ he asked.

‘I don’t think so,’ Evald answered, honestly. ‘Upset, I would say. Are the two of you friends?’

‘Merlin, no,’ Malfoy replied with a bleak laugh.

Evald opened the door, and walked in beside the prisoner. 

Potter looked up, but did not rise from his chair. ‘Murder, Malfoy?’ he asked in a defeated voice. ‘After everything that happened, you finally kill someone and it isn’t even me?’

****************************

Draco nearly laughed. If the Estonian official had not been there, he wouldn’t have been able to hold it in, and he wasn’t entirely sure that would have been a good idea, because Potter’s face did not seem to contain any of the levity of his words. 

Instead, he took the seat opposite Potter’s, put his hands palm-down on the table, and waited for Uurija Kask to depart.

When the door shut, he looked up, and then away from Potter’s intense stare. ‘I didn’t do it,’ he muttered. ‘Not that I expect you to believe me, but I didn’t. For all that I could sometimes have throttled Pansy, I could never have hurt her.’

‘Her father found you with the body.’ 

Potter’s voice was quiet, and not accusing. Draco looked up again. ‘We were meant to be going out, I Floo’d to her room. She had the fire waiting, as usual, but she was …’

‘There was blood all over you, your fingerprints were on the knife.’

Draco shrugged. Of course he had gone to her, held her, tried to help her … ‘I didn’t know what to do …’

Potter nodded. ‘You were in shock.’

Draco lifted his chin. ‘I was, actually. I still am, really.’

‘But her father says the two of you had fought, because she wanted a relationship, and you were gay.’

‘That is total, complete and utter bollocks.’

‘All of it?’ Potter looked slightly surprised.

‘My sexuality is none of your business.’

‘It goes to motive.’

Draco sighed. ‘Fine. She knew I was as gay as Albus Dumbledore by the start of Sixth Year. She loved having a secret about me, and if I’m being honest, she was actually a really good friend to have at that time. She protected me and helped me where she could – it was not a good time …’

‘It was not,’ Potter agreed.

‘And she stuck by me,’ Draco continued. ‘She was loyal and kind and even straight after the war she was there for me.’

‘But you fought,’ Potter interrupted. ‘Her father and two house-elves testified that they heard a loud argument the day before.’

‘Because my mother was insisting I should marry to protect the family name and Pansy was convinced I should marry her to shut everyone up, while I didn’t want her to throw away her chance at a real marriage to a real husband who could be … proper …’ Draco’s voice wound down. ‘What she deserved. What she should have had …’

He looked up at Potter again. Potter was nodding. 

‘I should have stayed.’ Draco wiped his face, unsurprised to find tears there. He couldn’t even think of Pansy without tears, yet. ‘I should have just let Mr Parkinson curse me on the spot. I wouldn’t have minded, except that then everyone would think I did it, and no one would ever have looked for anyone else.’

‘So you Apparated away …’

‘I went home, and I told my Father, and he told me to run.’

‘Why?’

A tense smile crossed Draco’s face. ‘Oh, Potter. He thought I was guilty, of course.’ 

‘He should have believed in you.’ Potter looked almost as surprised as Draco to hear the words.

‘Why start now?’

Draco had meant the phrase as a joke, albeit a bleak one, but its effect on Potter was profound. 

‘Are you telling me the truth?’ he asked. ‘Quickly, before your lawyer arrives.’

‘Yes.’ Draco realised where he had seen the expression on Potter’s face before. On the last day of the War, in the Room of Requirement. And afterwards, when he had told the Aurors to let the Malfoys be. He felt … beholden. 

‘Look, I don’t blame you for bringing me in. You’re doing your job. I’ll have to rely on the Wizengamot seeing sense.’ Draco hoped his tone wasn’t too overtly cynical, he was fairly sure Potter had friends on the Wizengamot. 

‘If I walk out of here with you in custody, I’ll have to take you in,’ Potter said. 

‘Yes, obviously. That’s why you’re here, isn’t it?’ Potter’s lack of mental acuity had clearly not improved in recent years.

‘Ask your lawyer to appeal the extradition,’ Potter urged.

‘We’ll lose the appeal.’

‘Yes, but …’ Potter lowered his voice and looked meaningly at Draco. ‘It won’t be held _here_.’

There was a knock at the door. Potter called out that the interloper could come in, and Uurija Kask escorted Advokaat Ruohonen into the room. 

‘Auror Potter, this is most irregular. Draco, I hope you’ve not said anything you oughtn’t. Now …’

Draco was glad Meeli Ruohonen was his advocate. She was so organised and controlling that he didn’t need to say a thing, which was just as well, because what he would have said was ‘Have you just suggested I escape from official custody?!’ which was almost certainly not helpful. 

Instead, he nodded when Ruohonen suggested they would be petitioning against the extradition, and again when she said that she would be demanding the first available court date, and further, that if he wanted her to petition to have Potter removed from the case she would most certainly do so as, given their history, it was obviously another indication of the British Wizengamot’s bias against her client …

‘What? No, no, we can keep Potter. Keep Potter. He’s not … I don’t mind Potter.’

This elicited a minuscule smile from Potter, and a momentary pause from Ruohonen. It was only a moment, though. 

‘Yes, of course. Auror Potter is famously incorruptible. It is hardly his fault that there are conspirators against you, he is merely doing the right thing as he sees it and we apportion no blame …’ 

And she was off again. Even through the whirring thoughts in Draco’s head he could only admire her smooth handling of Potter as she outlined the appeal she intended to make and berated him for not waiting on her before he visited the prisoner. Potter was polite and agreed with her plans and promised that he was more than happy to be delayed if it meant that legal processes were upheld and by the end of a quarter hour everyone was getting along swimmingly, after which hands were shaken, farewells given and he was handed back into the firm but fair custody of Uurija Kask. 

Clearly, Draco decided, he had hallucinated the whole thing. 

‘One moment, Uurija Kask,’ Potter said before Draco could be escorted from the room. ‘I just want to make sure of the protocols at this point. Malfoy will remain your prisoner and you will bring him to the appeals hearing?’

‘Yes,’ Kask replied. ‘That is correct.’

‘Which will be held where?’

‘In the Old Ministeerium. We will Apparate there with the prisoner in custody.’

‘Excellent. I’ll meet you in the lobby before the Appeal so that we can all go in together.’

‘There is no need …’

‘Nonsense. I’m sure Draco will be pleased to have a friendly face there, won’t you?’

Draco fervently hoped that his face showed none of the confusion he felt. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Absolutely. Long way from home and all that.’

‘Excellent,’ said Potter. ‘See you tomorrow, then.’

Draco nodded and meekly followed Kask out into the hallway.

‘English Aurors are very strange,’ Kask muttered quietly.

‘I agree,’ Draco said, nodding. ‘I don’t begin to understand them myself.’

The following morning, Draco was relieved to be flanked by Uurijas Kask and Tamm. He knew that Viego was fond of him, and suspected that Kask would hesitate before seriously stunning him, which quite probably improved the chances of surviving whatever Potter had in mind. 

The Old Ministeerium was a beautifully preserved mediaeval building and the atrium was filled with light from the surprisingly tall windows. Potter was standing there, sun gleaming in his still-stupid hair. He’d probably positioned himself to take advantage of the surrounds, knowing him. 

‘Evald, Draco,’ Potter greeted them, smiling at Tamm, whom he clearly did not know. ‘Advokaat Ruohonen is …’ 

And Draco never did find out what Meeli was, as Potter was interrupted by a wave of squeals and shouts and running Estonians, pursued by what appeared to be furry black – Doxies!? Draco turned to stare at Potter. Surely even he wasn’t mad enough to …

‘Behind me, Malfoy!’ Potter shouted, grabbing him and pushing him into a corner of the room, then adopting a protective stance in front of him, wand drawn. 

Familiar-looking wand drawn …

‘Hey! That’s my …’ Draco began

‘Grab it,’ Potter hissed from the side of his mouth, as Kask and Tamm threw their packed lunches at the greedy marauding fairies and shouted for Doxycide. 

‘You thieving wanker!’ Draco shouted, and launched himself at Potter’s back in what he hoped was a convincing manner. 

Potter staggered and flung his right hand back to protect his head. Draco triumphantly snatched the wand from it, keeping Potter between himself and the other drawn wands in the room. 

Potter turned, arms out to attack. 

‘Go!’ he whispered, making a too-slow grab for Draco’s right hand. 

Draco needed no further urging. He grabbed hold of Potter’s arm and Apparated.

The shouts of the Old Ministeerium disappeared, replaced by a single, closer voice. 

‘What in Merlin’s name are you thinking, Malfoy? Why on earth did you drag me along?’

Potter’s ranting voice hadn’t changed, then.

‘You were standing there, telling me to go,’ Draco explained. Honestly, you would think the man would know his own plan.

‘Telling _you_ to go,’ Potter corrected him. ‘I was meant to stay behind and look like an idiot for losing you.’

‘Well how was I meant to know that?’ Draco snapped. ‘Go back, then.’

‘Without you? How will I explain that?’

This was the worst rescue Draco had ever experienced, even including the one where Snape killed Dumbledore for him. ‘Then don’t!’

‘And look like a criminal conspirator?’

Draco put his hands over his ears and sat down on the leafy ground. Potter was still rabbiting on, so he started to hum tonelessly in a bid to drown it all out. 

After a minute, Potter sat down in front of him and looked worriedly at him.

Draco stopped humming and put his hands down.

‘Are you … Malfoy, have you completely lost it?’ Potter asked, in what he probably thought was a gentle tone. 

‘Pansy is dead,’ Draco told him.

‘Yes … um. Sorry?’ 

‘And since you believe me that I didn’t do it, you have to help me find who did.’

Potter started to shake his head. Draco went on. 

‘Because at the moment, the only possible explanation for what just happened is that I’ve taken you hostage. And if I’ve taken you hostage, then I’ve done that for a reason. So that reason is I’m forcing you to help me. And if we find who did it, then you’re in the clear, and I’m free. And we can kill them.’

‘Malfoy …’

‘Fine. I’ll Crucio them and you can arrest them.’

‘Just Stun me and go,’ Potter said. He sounded almost kind.

Draco shook his head. ‘Don’t you get it? I _need_ you to help me. I’ll beg if you want. I don’t know how to do it. You do.’

Potter frowned.

‘Please.’ Draco hoped he wouldn’t have to actually beg. Admitting he needed Potter’s help was demeaning enough.

‘Okay …’

And there it was. Potter didn’t know that yet, but Draco did. 

‘Where are we, anyway?’

‘Hiiumaa Island, I stopped here while I was on the run. People were kind and fed me, even though they were Muggles and I couldn’t understand a word they were saying.’

‘They didn’t capture you–‘

‘In Tallinn, they caught me in Tallinn. I was careless. We should be all right here for a bit.’

‘OK. So, we’ll go back and …’ Potter went on.

‘If we go back, they’ll arrest me and I don’t fancy my chances against the Wizengamot.’

‘It’s improved …’ Potter began, then stopped. He sighed. ‘But maybe not enough. Look, we should be able to establish your innocence from the blood on your clothes. Even if you were holding Pansy’s … body,’ he faltered over the word, ‘the pattern will be different from the spatter that would have covered … covered the killer,’ Potter finished quietly.

Draco’s shoulders slumped. ‘I burned the clothes,’ he admitted. 

‘Argh!’ Potter covered his face with his hands. ‘What is wrong with you, Malfoy? I was convinced you were innocent from the start, but you’re starting to look suspicious to even me!’

‘They were covered in Pansy’s blood!’ Draco took a deep breath and prepared to explain why that meant keeping them had not been an option, but Potter just nodded, and Draco recalled a day Potter’s clothes had been drenched in the blood of his friends, and a wave of sorrow hit, fresh and strong. He grasped for distraction. 

‘What do you mean you were convinced I was innocent? You interrogated me yesterday!’

Potter shrugged. ‘I was just confirming my instincts. You’re not a killer. I know that better than anyone. After eight years of blameless post-War frippery, you’re not going to suddenly murder your best friend.’

It was possible that Potter was not actually dreadful at this Auroring business after all. ‘No,’ said Draco. ‘I’m not.’

‘So the question is, who wanted Pansy dead?’

‘Well, all of your fanclub for a start.’

Potter refused to rise to the bait. ‘Would have happened long ago, eight years is far too long to wait.’

‘Then I have no idea.’

‘All right. All right, look, we’ll go back to England, we’ll take a look around, see what we can find out. If we work quickly, we should be able to smooth this whole thing over as just a misunderstanding, and when we hand over the genuine culprit, you’ll be fine.’ 

‘Aside from the fact I’ve taken Harry Potter hostage …’

Potter started to argue the point, then stopped. ‘That might complicate things, yes.’

‘So I think we probably have about 24 hours before there’s an international incident underway. Do you agree?’

‘About that.’

Draco smiled suddenly. ‘At least having you on side means Granger, too. She’ll come up with something bright.’

Potter shook his head. ‘We can’t involve Hermione, she’s just had a baby. Last week. If things go wrong, we can see if she can help at the Wizengamot.’

‘So it’s just you and me, then. Right. Well, we’d better solve it within 24 hours, or we’ll both kill each other and the whole thing will remain a mystery.’

‘We won’t kill each other,’ Potter sighed. ‘Oh, all right, I might kill you.’

‘Right. Are you better at this Auror thing than you are the rescuing thing?’

‘Yes. Much.’

‘Thank Merlin for that. So where do you think we ought to begin?’

Potter thought for a moment. ‘My place, then Pansy’s. See if we can pick up the trail from there. I’ve got a portkey that will get us back home, we should arrive there before anyone starts looking for us. Can you Apparate us close to her place from London?’

‘Easy.’

‘Good-oh.’ Potter undid the belt of his red Auror trenchcoat and fumbled through the internal pockets. 

‘You have your own wand,’ Draco said, spotting it inside the coat’s left breast.

‘What? Oh, yes, of course.’

‘Good. I wouldn’t want you thinking I was harmless.’

‘No, of course not. I was ready to Stun you at any time.’

‘Which means that you brought mine with you before you were certain I didn’t do it.’

‘I was already certain.’

‘Which means the whole time, you were planning to bust me out.’

‘Not the whole time, I needed to be …’ Potter gave up. ‘Anyway, shut up. I meant to give your wand back to you ages ago, but it would have involved talking to you. Here’s the bloody Portkey. Hang on. Three, two, one …’

****************************

Kreacher had seen many strange things in his long life. His master appearing in the study with Young Draco Malfoy was barely worth raising an eyebrow at.

‘Get your kit off,’ Master Harry insisted, tossing the Portkey on top of the mantel.

_That_ was worth an eyebrow, Kreacher decided. Young Malfoy gave it two. 

‘Are you insane?’

‘You’re wearing prison clothing, even a Muggle will spot that,’ Master Harry pointed out. ‘I’ll be back in a minute. We’re about the same size, you can wear something of mine.’

‘Something remotely decent!’ Young Malfoy shouted after him.

Kreacher stood and watched. The Malfoy whelp took mostly after his father, but there were strong touches of Black blood to compensate for it. Though what he was doing wearing prison stripes was a mystery rivalling what he was doing wearing them here. 

Young Malfoy began to remove his clothes, tossing each piece towards Kreacher. Kreacher looked at them, grunted, and took a step away from the pile. 

Young Malfoy looked as though he was going to say something, but stopped himself before any words came out. He reached his pants and paused with his thumbs in the waistband, before thinking better of it, to Kreacher’s infinite relief.

Master Harry returned quickly, carrying clothing and a bundle of scrolls. ‘Right, here we g—’ He stopped, staring at Young Malfoy, who slumped over in what appeared to be a bid to hide as much body as possible behind his remaining undergarment.

‘Where’s your tattoo?’ Master Harry demanded.

‘My what?’

‘Your Dark Mark. On your arm. Where is it?’

Young Malfoy looked down at his left arm, and seemed relieved to find it pale and unscathed. ‘I never had one. Voldemort never trusted me enough.’

‘But in Sixth Year …’ Master Harry’s voice was insistent. 

‘My family was already on the outer, thanks to …’ Young Malfoy stopped speaking with an effort. After a moment, he resumed. ‘We were no longer a part of the trusted inner circle, and as you saw for yourself, we never regained a position within it.’

‘But you kept pulling down your sleeve.’

Young Malfoy blushed. ‘I may have inked a facsimile of the Mark onto my arm as a jest …’

‘As a …’ Master Harry appeared to be about to lose his temper, if Kreacher was any judge. His ears had that touch of red that traditionally foretold shouting and ill-advised spells.

Young Malfoy shouted over him. ‘I was young and very, very stupid, all right?’

Which was apparently the right thing to say. Master Harry put his bundles down on the desk. ‘All right,’ he said, with a sigh, and passed the clothes over.

‘What are they?’ Young Malfoy asked, pointing at the scrolls.

‘Your case notes, and all the investigation into … the crime,’ Master Harry said. ‘We’ll need to go through them today, see what leads we can find.’

Young Malfoy began to dress without complaint. He frowned as he looked at the scrolls. ‘Open them up, we may as well start now.’

‘Not here. The news will probably be reaching the Ministry in the next 15 minutes or so. They’ll be here within the half hour. I’ve packed a change of clothing each, coats and a Portkey to Mauritius in case everything goes pear-shaped.’

Young Malfoy stopped dressing. ‘Why do you have a collection of Portkeys, Potter?’

‘They’re not that expensive, and it’s a better option than braining Rita Skeeter with a brick whenever the _Prophet_ gets too intrusive.’

Malfoy nodded thoughtfully. ‘Better for you personally, I’ll agree. Probably not for the world at large …’ 

Kreacher turned away so no-one could see him smile.

‘Right.’ Young Malfoy pulled a light jumper on over his shirt. ‘I’m ready. Should we go to Pansy’s next?’

Master Harry shook his head. ‘No, I’ve changed my mind. We should read through the evidence together first. You might be able to shed light on some of the more confusing aspects. Then we can look at the crime scene with an idea of what we’re looking for. Do you have anywhere we’ll be safe for an hour or two?’

Young Malfoy shook his head. ‘We can’t go to Wiltshire, it’s the first or second place they’ll look.’

‘I agree.’

‘Do you have any hiding places left over from the war?’

‘No. What about you, any holiday hideaways?’

Young Malfoy snorted. ‘Don’t be ridiculous. What about friends? You’ve got loads of friends.’

‘Who’d all hex you on sight. You?’

‘Only Goyle. Same problem. And your lot will look there.’

Master Harry paused. ‘Maybe Luna? Kreacher, do you know where Miss Luna is this week?’

‘She wrote to you on Monday,’ Kreacher reminded him. ‘She said she would be at home working on her book, and that you should visit her.’

Master Harry grinned. ‘So she did. Thanks, Kreacher. Well, Malfoy? What do you think? Of all the people I know, she’s the most likely to give you a chance. She makes a point of saying that you were decent to her when she was trapped in your cellar, which is more of a concession than any of my other friends make when it comes to you.’

‘Do I have a choice?’

‘Not really.’

‘Sounds ideal. Merlin knows she can’t hurt the situation. It’s not as though things could get any weirder than they already are.’

‘That’s the spirit.’ Master Harry waved his wand over the scrolls and shoved their rapidly shrinking forms into a bag tied to his belt. He transferred his wand to his belt, then took off his Auror coat and tossed it to Kreacher. 

‘There’ll be other Aurors here soon, Kreacher,’ he said. ‘They’ll be looking for me, and for Malfoy. Don’t tell them you’ve seen us, and make sure they don’t find my coat. If you don’t hear from me within 48 hours, go straight to Ron Weasley and tell him what’s just happened. Tell him I went with Malfoy of my own accord and thought he was innocent, but if I disappear, too, he should probably go back on the suspect list.’

‘Oi …’ Young Malfoy began to argue, then changed his mind. ‘No, I suppose that’s reasonable.’

Master Harry turned back. ‘And Kreacher, if I come back alone and people later ask what happened to Malfoy, you never saw him here, right?’

‘No Malfoys in this house, Master,’ Kreacher said loyally, enjoying the look of shock that crossed Young Malfoy’s face almost as much as the glare that followed it. ‘Would you like some supplies for your journey?’

‘Yes please.’

Kreacher trotted downstairs with Master’s Auror coat, muttering happily to himself. It was good to see the Master getting out and about rather than sitting at home and reading scrolls of an evening. And there had very nearly been shouting with that Malfoy whelp. Master was never happier than after a good shout. And now they were headed out on some form of adventure that could possibly culminate in homicide. It was beautiful to see how the spirit of the house was rubbing off onto Master Harry at last. 

Kreacher opened up the cold store, hid the coat behind the pickles and selected two large pies, a treacle tart, a loaf of bread, wheel of cheese, block of chocolate and a bag of apples. As an afterthought, he added a large knife, just in case, before wrapping the whole lot well.

‘A plain but nourishing feast, Master Harry,’ Kreacher announced as he carried his parcel into the study. 

Young Malfoy looked at the size of the linen-wrapped bundle. ‘I thought we were only going for a day.’

Kreacher glared at him. ‘Master Harry’s plans have a habit of taking longer than he expects,’ he declared stiffly. It was one thing for a house-elf to allow his Master to escape unfed for the best part of a year once, but never let it be said that he was the type to let it happen twice.

‘Thank you, Kreacher,’ his Master said, taking the food and shrinking it down to add to his other luggage. ‘I’ll be back as soon as I can.’

‘Safe travels, Master Harry!’

‘Cheers. Hold on Malfoy, here we go.’

And with a small pop and inward rush of air, the two of them were gone again. 

Kreacher stared at the small pile of prison clothing Young Malfoy had left behind. For a moment he wondered if he ought to hide it, in case it was a treasured souvenir. Then, half-hoping that it was, he vapourised it into ash and swept it neatly into the fireplace. 

****************************

Luna Lovegood had seen quite a lot of Harry Potter traipsing around after Draco Malfoy. Usually, he had been wearing a scowl, or an expression of deep suspicion. But occasionally, as now, it had been a look of frustration and concern.

‘Hullo, Harry,’ she sang out, getting up from the front steps of her home and leaving her notebook behind her. ‘And Draco, how kind of you to visit. I was sorry to hear about your friend Pansy, I know how close you were to her. She and I didn’t like each other, but I was still very sad to hear about it.’

Draco made a little bow and said, ‘Thank you, Luna.’

She patted his arm, then stepped past him to hug Harry. ‘What brings you here? Would you like some food? I’m running late today, I was about to have breakfast. The kettle’s on.’

Both young men smiled at her and started to accept her offer, Luna led them inside, picking up her notebook on the way. She had never known any of her male friends and acquaintances not to be hungry, save in the very worst crises. It was heartening that this didn’t appear to be one. 

It didn’t take long for her to serve up tea, buttered toast, nasturtium salad (‘It’s very tasty, really, and healthful!’) fried mushrooms and porridge. Harry and Draco, despite both declaring they were fine with a cup of tea and slice of toast, both ate heartily, not even noticing that the nasturtiums warded off all the Wrackspurts that had followed them into the house. 

She waited until they were sipping their second cups of tea before she tackled them. ‘So, you two don’t like each other at all. What brings you here together?’

Draco spluttered, but Harry smiled at her over the lip of his cup. ‘I sprang Malfoy from the Aurors about an hour ago. We’re on the trail of Pansy’s murderer, and we were hoping you might help.’

‘Yes, of course,’ Luna said. ‘Would you like some water?’ she asked Malfoy, who was still spluttering. 

He waved a hand to signal that he was fine, so Luna moved away their breakfast things to make room for the scrolls that Harry was pulling from his pouch and returning to their original size.

‘This is everything I have on the case,’ Harry explained. ‘We thought we should start by looking over these with you, then go and see the scene of the crime, and then track down any leads that we develop. I don’t think we have a lot of time. Once the Estonians let on that we’ve disappeared, everyone will be after us and we won’t be able to investigate at all.’

‘And you’ll both be in enormous trouble,’ Luna added.

‘That too,’ Harry agreed.

‘Wait here for a moment,’ Luna said, darting back down to the kitchen. There, in the biscuit tin, she thought … no, at the bottom of the tea caddy, that’s right. She walked back into the living room, disentangling the two cords as she went. 

‘Here you are,’ she said, finally separating the objects and passing one each to Harry and Draco. ‘Bunny pendants. They each have strong Concealment Charms on them, should help to hide you from anyone searching by magic.’

‘It’s … it’s very bunny …’ Draco said, staring at the pendant.

‘My father made them for us after the war,’ Luna explained. ‘He wasn’t feeling very well at the time, so he used my old Mr Flopsy as the model. That’s why one ear’s up and one ear’s down, I used to chew on the down one.’

‘I like it,’ Draco assured her. 

‘Thanks, Luna,’ Harry added. ‘They’ll help.’

‘Just bring them back when you’re finished. Now, where do we begin here?’

‘With Pansy,’ Harry said authoritatively. ‘She was targeted for a reason. If we can work out what that reason was, it will lead us in the direction of her killer. Sorry, Malfoy, this will be a bit tough on you.’

Luna was surprised that Harry had noticed Draco’s bitten lip and pallor. She was very proud of him for showing empathy to someone not a close friend. 

‘There’s no help for that,’ Draco replied. ‘Go on, it’ll all be worth it if we can find the bastard who did this.’

Harry nodded. ‘All right. Well, most murderers target their victims specifically. They’re someone who’s done them wrong, or angered them, or who they love, but in a perverted way that’s the same as hate. They’re representative of everything the killer desires, or everything they want to get rid of. Or they’re the person who stole their husband, hexed their cat, or accidentally blew up their letterbox. So we start with looking at Pansy to see if there are things about her that might give us a reason why someone would target her. Was she seeing anyone?’

‘Not for three years. The last one was Blaise, and they broke up amicably. She was due to be Best Woman at his wedding to Daphne next year.’

‘What about …’ Harry ground to a halt. 

‘Lovers?’ Luna suggested.

Harry gave her a quick smile of gratitude. ‘Yes. Any?’ 

Draco frowned, but clearly decided that finding Pansy’s killer was more important than preserving her modesty. ‘After she and Blaise called it quits, she gave up on relationships. I know there were a few random Muggles picked up and quickly discarded, but she never once brought one home, and it had been a while since the last one of them, she said.’

Harry nodded and shuffled through his scrolls before extracting one. ‘Do you know if she had problems with anyone in her family?’

‘Her parents are separated,’ Luna said. ‘Mrs Parkinson was at the Weary Wizard Health Retreat when Pansy was killed. I know because Dad’s having a month there and he mentioned how upset she was when the news came. He doesn’t think you did it, by the way,’ she assured Draco.

‘Thank you.’ Draco smiled weakly. ‘That’s right. Pansy moved in with her father after her mother kicked him out. She was helping him through the worst of it, she said, but I think she was just making sure he had food to eat and that he remembered to do his laundry. She was very close to both her parents. Her Aunt Marjorie thought she was a painted trollop, but her Aunt Marjorie thinks Potter is a swollen-headed ne’er-do-well who probably orchestrated the whole war for the headlines.’

Luna stifled a laugh.

‘Aside from that, she has a handful of cousins who have always been on good terms with her, her Uncle Thomas, who doted on her, two nice aunts who own the cousins, a doddering Great Uncle and some more distant connections. I think the worst thing she ever did to any of them was pinch one of the aunt’s lipsticks. She was always very good about family, she even thought her Aunt Marjorie deserved credit for being so thoroughly obnoxious, rather than just bigoted against one section of society.’

‘Her Aunt Marjorie isn’t a Muggle is she?’ Harry asked with a frown.

‘Merlin no!’

‘Uncanny. Must be something about the name. All right. What about little petty crimes or accidents? Has she ever hexed anyone? Bullied anyone? Stolen someone’s Kneazle? Done something heinous?’

Draco looked up from his folded hands. ‘Do you know what “heinous” means?’

‘Yes.’

‘Just checking.’

Luna watched them closely, intrigued.

‘The only people she ever really bullied were your friends, Potter. Or some of the other girls from school, but if any of them were the type to hold a grudge, and I genuinely believe they were mostly above that, you’re right and eight years really is too long to wait. Plus they all beat her in the end. She was alone, without many friends, without a job, without a plan. No one wanted to hire the girl who was happy to hand over Harry Potter.

‘As to anything heinous, she panicked when she was a schoolgirl and tried to send you off to your death in front of hundreds of witnesses. I thought it was a reasonable suggestion when I heard about it, but you’d have grounds for complaint. Do you have an alibi?’

‘Eighteen Aurors,’ Harry informed him. ‘I made one of my staff check me out.’

‘Shame, you were my favourite suspect.’

Luna blinked.

‘Right. So, unlikely to be a revenge motive. What about Pansy herself. Anything special about her?’

Draco didn’t answer this. Instead his cheeks flushed and his lower lip disappeared and Luna stood up quickly before she or Harry could look to see if there were tears coming. ‘More tea, anyone?’ she asked.

‘Yes, please,’ they both answered.

After a slow sip of his fresh cup, Draco replied, ‘Quite a lot, really, but only to those who knew her.’

Luna felt terrible intruding, but that wasn’t entirely true. ‘She was stabbed,’ she said.

Harry and Draco both looked at her. 

‘Was it with a knife from her house?’ she asked.

Harry didn’t need to look at his notes. ‘No, it was a silver knife that her father had never seen before.’

‘It didn’t look familiar to me,’ Draco agreed.

‘A lot of dark magic uses blood, so the stabbing itself might be significant,’ Luna suggested. ‘And a silver knife is used in quite a few spells.’

‘But why Pansy?’ Draco asked. ‘She wasn’t a virgin, she hadn’t defeated any Dark Wizards, there was nothing really unusual about her.’

‘She was hardly a traitor,’ Harry added. ‘She was never on my side. And she had the usual number of fingers and toes.’

‘She was brave,’ Luna pointed out. ‘She stood up in front of a school full of people she knew to be on Harry’s side and pointed out that we had a choice about whether or not we died.’

Harry frowned.

Draco nodded. ‘She _was_ brave. But not strong. It wouldn’t have been hard to overpower her.’

‘Exactly,’ Luna agreed. ‘Most brave people are more resourceful and would make harder targets. There are spells that call for courage, you could try and take blood for them from someone strong, like Harry …’

‘… Or you could choose an easy target,’ Draco finished for her.

‘It’s definitely worth investigating,’ Harry said. He rifled through his papers again and drew out a photograph. ‘This was the weapon used. Malfoy, you don’t have to …’

‘No, I’ll look.’ Draco stood up and moved round the table to hover beside Luna. 

She was impressed. More so because she could see the slight shake in his hands that he quickly tried to hide. ‘It’s quite plain, isn’t it?’ she said, so that he wouldn’t have to.

‘The shape’s very narrow, the blade’s quite long and it doesn’t look as though there’s a separate handle,’ Draco elaborated.

‘It’s all made in one piece,’ Harry confirmed. ‘Our research team says that it had an unusually thick tang, which was beaten into shape after the blade was formed.’

‘Sounds ceremonial,’ Luna suggested.

‘Perhaps. Malfoy, have you ever seen anything like this before?’

Draco began to shake his head, then stopped. ‘Hang on … If it was about twice as big, there was a werewolf-hunting dagger at the Black house when I was little. Great-Aunt Walburga used to terrify me with it.’

‘Do you know what happened to it?’ Harry asked.

‘No, I was only four or five. Isn’t it there now?’

‘Kreacher and I spent most of ’99 going through the house from top to bottom. Nothing like that showed up. Maybe it was one of the things Mundungus Fletcher stole. We’ll chase that down later, it might have a clue as to the maker that would help us track down others like it.’

‘The werewolf connection might be significant,’ Luna said. ‘Or perhaps it might be a type of moon magic, silver’s used a lot in moon spells, and silver and blood are both used in some of the darker love spells – well, obsession spells, really, they never end well.’

Harry had pulled a quill from his pouch and was taking notes. 

‘And it’s not the sort of thing you could buy easily these days. It’s the sort of thing older families might have held onto as an artefact, or there are a few people who could perhaps still produce this sort of work. There’s a knifemaker in Dover who advertises in _The Quibbler_ , she uses precious metals for some of hers. I could visit her and ask if she knows anything.’

‘That would be great, Luna,’ Harry said.

‘Thank you,’ Draco added. 

‘Can I borrow the photograph?’

‘Of course.’

‘Thanks, Harry. Don’t worry, Draco. We’ll sort this out.’

Draco sat back down, a little shakily, and smiled at her. ‘You’re a very remarkable witch, Luna. After everything my family did to you, you’re still willing to help me.’

‘Well, it’s about the truth, isn’t it?’ she asked, making sure her smile reached all the way to her eyes so that he wouldn’t see the tiny haunted corner that remained there. ‘And your family weren’t controlling events at your house during the war. I don’t blame you for what happened.’ 

In truth, she thought, she had been safer in that house than any of the Malfoys. As a child, a pureblood and a hostage, she had held value to Voldemort. She’d been fed regularly and treated well, which was more than could be said for Mr Ollivander. Or for Draco Malfoy by the end …

‘So that just leaves a few points to clear up,’ Harry said, reordering his scrolls. ‘Malfoy, you said that you Floo’d to Pansy’s room.’

‘That’s right.’

‘And then Mr Parkinson gave evidence that you Apparated away.’ 

‘Yes. I panicked.’

‘Was Pansy a tidy person?’

‘Relatively.’ Draco shrugged. ‘She didn’t like a mess, but she wasn’t weird about it. She left her everyday make-up on her dresser rather than put it away every morning, sometimes she left her clean clothes on a chair rather than put them away if she was planning to wear them later. Normal stuff.’

‘What about her fireplace?’ Harry asked. ‘Would she have left spilled Floo Powder lying around?’

‘No,’ Draco said. ‘Floo powder can cause all sorts of problems, like accidentally catching when you don’t intend it to. It’s unusual, but people have found themselves taking unexpected trips. Pansy would always clean up quickly if she dropped any.’

Harry nodded and ticked off a note on one of his scrolls. ‘Good. And how long were you there?’

‘Not long.’ 

Luna poured a fresh cup of tea out for Draco. He took a long sip, then continued. ‘I stepped through the Floo, looked around, saw Pansy. I think I might have shouted something. I fell to my knees beside her and picked her up, trying to see if she was still breathing, but she was all floppy, and then I saw the knife, and I went to pull it out, but it was stuck …’

Luna put the cup of tea back in Draco’s hands. ‘Drink some more. Take your time. You’re safe here,’ she assured him. 

‘Thank you,’ he whispered before drinking. ‘I couldn’t move it. So I held her, and I think I started to cry, and then I heard knocking and then her father opened the door and started shouting, and I stood up, and I realised that I had Pansy’s blood all over me, and it was so horrible that I just wanted to go …’ 

‘Of course you did,’ Luna said gently. ‘That’s not how you wanted to remember her, not growing cold and still. Your Pansy was full of life and energy.’

Draco looked at her with surprise. ‘Yes, that’s it exactly! How did you …’ and she could see the moment he remembered. She remembered telling him, on one of those long, grim afternoons when he had brought lunch down to the cellars and then stayed because it was less dark and miserable down there than upstairs. ‘Merlin, Luna, I’m sorry …’

‘No, it’s all right. You do forget it more as time goes on. You stop seeing it all the time, and you’ll remember her alive again. It just takes some time.’

‘Thank you,’ Draco whispered, and impulsively took her hand.

Harry looked out of his depth. Not for the first time, Luna thought, with affection. He was not at his best when it came to feelings.

‘You were asking Draco about time,’ she reminded him.

‘What? Oh, yes. So it sounds as though it was maybe two or three minutes from the time you arrived until the time you left?’

‘About that,’ Draco agreed. ‘Maybe five at the most.’

‘That’s good,’ Potter said, smiling grimly. ‘Mr Parkinson says that he heard footsteps and talking a quarter of an hour before he went up and found you. I think there was someone there before you, and he or she Floo’d out just before you Floo’d in.’

Draco looked up sharply. ‘It took longer to connect than usual,’ he said. ‘I thought it was just because that area has a busy Network, but perhaps … Merlin … If I’d hurried …’ Horror grew in his eyes.

‘If you’d been a bit earlier, you’d be dead, too,’ Harry said firmly.

‘You don’t know that.’

‘It’s the most likely scenario,’ Harry insisted. 

Luna interrupted before they could start to argue. ‘So, we have a rough idea of the time frame, and I have a lead to follow up on the knife. What are you two going to do next?’

‘Go to the scene of the crime,’ Harry said.

‘What about Mr Parkinson?’ Draco asked. 

‘He’s staying back at the family home for the moment. We cleared the crime scene last week, so there won’t be any MLE staff there. We can take a look and see if there is any more information to gather, then we can see if there’s any way of tracking the Floo movements.’

‘Is there?’ Luna looked up sharply. ‘All Ministry monitoring was meant to have been lifted.’

‘It _was_ ,’ Harry insisted. ‘ _The Quibbler_ got that one wrong. But the Floo Regulation Panel keeps an eye on which parts of the Network are busy and runs comprehensive traffic checks to see if there are any problems. It’s unlikely, but we could get lucky.’

‘How?’ Draco asked. ‘We can’t visit them.’

‘I’ll come up with something. I’m the Deputy Chief Auror. I’m good at this.’

‘All right. Should we meet back here tonight?’ Luna asked. ‘My father’s away, so you’ll be safe here.’

‘If we can. I’ll try to get word to you if we can’t.’

‘Do you have money? Food? Supplies?’ 

Harry patted the bag on his belt. ‘Sorted. Hermione Special packing charm, we’re good for a few days at least.’

‘Were you meant to be visiting Ron and Hermione today?’

‘I went yesterday. Rose vomited on me twice, they told me I could take a day off.’

‘Good baby. I was going to pop by briefly this afternoon. If the alarm’s been raised by then, I’ll go and tell them I know you’re all right. Ron will rant and rave, but I think it will be fine.’ Luna removed her hand from Draco’s, giving it a friendly pat as she did so. ‘You two take care of each other, and try not to fight. Pansy needs you to work together.’

‘Thanks, Luna,’ Draco said. ‘I owe you.’

‘It’s all right. Harry, be careful, all right?’

‘Of course I will,’ he replied, catching her up in a tight hug.

And then they were just nattering, as she walked them outside and they agreed that they should follow whatever leads appeared before meeting up again back at Luna’s. There would be a red scarf on the doorknob if there was danger, or if it was after dark, Luna would leave all the lights on. 

‘We’ll see you tonight if everything goes well,’ Harry said. ‘All right, Malfoy, can you get us to Pansy’s?’

‘Wait!’ Luna called before Draco could Apparate them. ‘Shouldn’t you be hidden? Do you have your cloak, Harry?’

‘I thought you said it would be fine,’ Draco muttered.

Harry rummaged through his bag. ‘It will be fine, but Luna’s right. Better safe than sorry. OK, you’ll have to stand close.’ 

Harry flung the cloak about them, and Luna could hear hissed instructions for a moment before an inrush of air told her they had Disapparated. But that second of tense stillness from each of them before they had stepped close enough to fit under the cloak had been very interesting indeed. 

Of course, Luna told herself, it could mean any one of a list of things. But it was not a very long list.

****************************


	2. Chapter 2

Harry looked around quickly. The coast was thoroughly clear, so he swung the cloak from around them and stepped away from Malfoy, just as Malfoy stepped away from him. 

‘She was there,’ Malfoy said without preamble, pointing at the floor. 

The bloodstain would have given the position of the body away, even if Harry had not looked at the photos time and again. 

‘Right. I’m going to have a close look, you stand at the door and let me know if you hear anything or anyone moving in the house.’

Malfoy stepped past him, looking anywhere but at the blood. Harry couldn’t blame him. 

Instead, he sat down and examined the bloodstain. It was smaller than it had appeared in the photos. He took out his penknife and made a small, straight incision into the middle of the stain. And then again further out. And then two more. It didn’t make any sense. 

‘Malfoy,’ Harry said, not looking up. ‘Mr Parkinson said that you had blotches of blood all over your clothes. Was that right?’

‘Yes,’ Malfoy replied tightly. ‘Blotches is a good word for it. On my shirt, and on my trousers, from the ground, I was kneeling about where you are now.’

‘I can see the smudges,’ Harry confirmed. ‘But I just need to be sure. Blotches, not big patches.’

He looked up this time, and Malfoy was looking at him, sad and wounded. 

‘Blotches,’ he confirmed. ‘A bit here,’ he touched his left shoulder, ‘then some here,’ above his heart, ‘then more on my trousers, from where I was kneeling.’

‘That proves you’re innocent,’ Harry said, adding a bit of an encouraging smile. ‘And it strongly suggests that Luna’s blood theory is right.’

Malfoy was interested despite himself. ‘How can you tell?’

‘Look,’ Harry said, scratching at the blood-stained floor wax. ‘This is just on the surface, it doesn’t penetrated into the boards.’

‘What does that mean?’

‘It means there wasn’t enough blood. The MediWizard who looked at Pansy afterwards said the knife hit a major artery and that the blood would have gushed out, but the body was on its side, sort of face down …’

‘That’s how she was when I got here,’ Malfoy confirmed. 

‘And her clothes were bloody, but not sodden. I thought it must have seeped into the floor, but there’s just not enough here. Either the killer was soaked in her blood, or they’ve _taken_ it.’

Malfoy was frowning at him. ‘How could you have missed this before?’

‘I only saw the photographs,’ Harry admitted. ‘It wasn’t my case.’

‘Then why are you suddenly so involved now?!’ Malfoy snapped.

Harry shrugged. There was no point trying to answer Malfoy when he wasn’t sure of his own motivations. 

‘Do you often take over cases?’ Malfoy asked, more calmly.

‘Not often.’

‘How often?’

‘First one,’ Harry admitted.

Malfoy looked at him, more curious than calculating. ‘Thanks, then, I suppose,’ he said at last.

‘I don’t like injustice,’ Harry told him. ‘And I don’t like it when my department does sloppy work because it’s easy.’

‘Yeah, that’s totally worth risking your career over.’

It remained the case that there were few worse feelings than Draco Malfoy being right when Harry didn’t want him to be. 

‘Shut up,’ Harry said. ‘And start thinking about who would want Pansy’s blood.’

‘We should research blood spells,’ Malfoy said. ‘Once we know what it can be used for, it will narrow the field of suspects.’

‘Good idea. So, Hogwarts library?’

Malfoy shook his head. ‘Their Dark Magic section isn’t what it could be. You won’t be surprised to learn I know where we could find the perfect books. The problem is that we can’t go there.’

‘Malfoy Manor?’

Malfoy nodded. 

‘We can’t go there,’ Harry agreed. ‘But Kreacher can.’

‘That’s a good idea,’ Malfoy said, surprised. 

‘We should finish up here first. Can you see anything unusual?’

Malfoy looked around, reluctantly. ‘There’s that Floo powder you were talking about. And that chair is usually pulled up to her dresser, but she might have pulled it out for me to sit in, or maybe one of your people did.’

‘They didn’t move anything.’

‘OK, well, the chair, then. And there should be a little towel on her dresser, she always protected her clothes when she was doing her make-up. It’s not there.’

‘Excellent. Anything else?’

‘Not that I can see.’

Harry nodded. ‘Good work.’ 

‘Potter…’

‘What?’

‘If you want to hand me in now …’ Malfoy swallowed and went on, lifting his chin. ‘You said that we had proof I didn’t do it, so if you want to take me back to the Ministry and keep going by yourself, I understand. It would probably be better.’

Harry couldn’t help smiling. ‘Are you trying to be noble?’

‘I’m trying to keep you from getting the sack.’

‘I thought you wanted to catch this bastard.’

‘I do.’

‘So we keep going.’ Harry stood up and dusted off his trousers. ‘Though I have to confess something: you’re finally right, and I do get special treatment these days. The likelihood of me getting the sack is vanishingly small, and if it all goes horribly wrong I’ll just claim that you panicked and Apparated us to Belarus and it’s taken us this long to work our way back to civilsation.’

A small smile crossed Malfoy’s face. ‘Quite believable,’ he admitted. ‘In that case, where do we go next?’

‘You’re never to tell Hermione that I did this voluntarily, but we’re going camping. In the Forest of Dean.’

It was almost exactly as Harry remembered it; the bushes a little higher, the undergrowth a little more filled in after a wet spring. Malfoy’s surprise at the tent made Harry laugh.

‘Let me guess, Malfoys don’t camp?’

‘We’re not famous for it,’ Malfoy replied, but to do him credit, he held back any sneer.

‘You’re welcome to stay outside,’ Harry offered.

Malfoy looked around at the verdant foliage and seemed tempted, but a wildlife-ey rustle nearby saw him square his shoulders and head into the tent. He took the less-dilapidated of the armchairs, Harry took the other and pointed his wand at his bag.

‘ _Accio_ mirror,’ he said.

It flew obediently to his hand, and he peered into it. ‘Kreacher?’ he tried, in case the house-elf was nearby. There was no reply.

‘Charmed?’ Malfoy guessed.

Harry nodded. ‘Kreacher has the matching one. What’s left of it, at any rate. He has instructions to check it every quarter hour to see if I need him, so we won’t have to wait long.’

‘Good.’

They sat in silence for an entire minute.

‘Hungry?’ Harry asked, for something to say. 

Malfoy looked at him. ‘We just had breakfast.’

‘Right.’ He glimpsed a flash of movement in the glass. ‘Kreacher!’

It was. The elf’s furrowed face swam into view. 

‘I need you here,’ Harry said, beckoning.

The face in the mirror nodded, disappeared, and a moment later reappeared in the tent, with the rest of Kreacher attached to it. In one hand he held a large knife and in the other a plate of roast chicken. He looked around sharply, and appeared sorry to see Malfoy sitting quietly in his chair. 

‘Master Harry needs Kreacher?’ he said. ‘Kreacher did not think there was sufficient food.’ He waved the plate of chicken, in a bid to make the knife seem like an entirely reasonable accessory.

Harry pressed his lips together for a second to stop his laughter. 

‘No, we’re amply provisioned, thanks,’ he said. ‘But I need you to sneak into Malfoy Manor and borrow some books.’

‘Easy to do, Master,’ Kreacher replied.

Malfoy interrupted. ‘You’ll need to get past …’

Kreacher didn’t let him finish. ‘Easy to do, son of Narcissa.’ 

Malfoy started to frown, then seemed to realise that he was arguing with a house-elf. ‘Fine. Potter, give me a quill and some paper, I’ll write a list.’

A few minutes later, he blew on the ink to dry it and handed the list over to Harry. It was not long: four books and their locations in the Manor. He had, to Harry’s amusement, given brief notes on the protective spells securing each book, despite Kreacher’s protestations.

‘If you could borrow these for us, it would be very helpful,’ Harry said. ‘And if any of the Malfoy house-elves see you, you could let them know that he’s safe with me, and that we’ll be returning the books later.’

‘Is Master Harry sure he wants it known that he has the Malfoy boy?’ Kreacher asked, his eyes sliding meaningly over to the knife and chicken, now on the table. 

‘Probably for the best,’ Harry conceded. ‘And we’ve managed not to kill each other for all these years, it would be a shame to start now.’

‘His mother was one of Master Regulus’s favourites,’ Kreacher allowed.

‘And she’s very fond of me!’ Malfoy put in. 

Kreacher sniffed, accepted the paper, and Disapparated.

‘Potter,’ said Malfoy, looking at the space where Kreacher had been.

‘Yes?’

‘Can I ask two questions?’

Harry turned to him. ‘Of course.’

‘One: why does your house elf keep feeding you? And two: how many enormous knives do you own?’

‘Ah.’ Harry managed to keep most of the laughter from his face. ‘All right, in reverse order: lots, and I hope never to find out what they are all meant to do, because I have some dark suspicions with a few of them. I don’t think he actually wants you dead, you know. He’s just a bit protective of me and you’re … well, you were … anyway. And Kreacher has been feeding me up ever since the War. He thinks I starve myself voluntarily when he’s not around.’

‘You are pretty lean,’ Malfoy allowed.

‘Never had quite enough to eat before Hogwarts, I think my metabolism has decided it can spend the rest of my life catching up.’

Malfoy gave him a strange look, but let it rest. 

They sat in their chairs, itchily silent. Harry glanced across to see if Malfoy looked as though he was keen to talk. Malfoy was in fact staring at a point on the canvas roof. Harry followed his sightline until he spotted the diligent spider weaving a web out from one of the poles. He watched in quiet fascination as the gossamer web was constructed, thread by thread. He’d always been impressed by the spiders when he lived in the cupboard – so determined and direct in their actions. This one was no different, and Harry watched it come up against a patch of roughness on the canvas and move that anchor thread a fraction to the left. He smiled, and jumped when Kreacher appeared with a loud crack at his elbow.

He held four thick books. ‘Oh, well done!’ Harry said. ‘Thanks, Kreacher!’

Kreacher handed the books across and nodded his head. ‘Is there anything else Master Harry requires?’

‘No thanks. Head home, Kreacher. See if you can hose things down if it all goes a bit pear-shaped at that end. I’ll be in touch if I need anything, so keep checking the mirror when you can. Otherwise, I’ll see you tomorrow, unless we can wrap things up today.’

Kreacher gave Malfoy one last suspicious glare before Disapparating again. 

‘Did he get the right books?’ Malfoy asked, ignoring Kreacher’s glare.

Harry passed them over, and was rewarded with a grudging nod.

‘Should we take two each?’ Harry suggested.

Malfoy nodded, reached across and took the top two from the pile, then sat back and began to read without a word.

Harry silently passed him more paper, found himself another quill, and began to read through his two books, taking notes of any spells that collected blood with a silver knife as he went. 

They were not nice books. It wasn’t just the spells – To Bend Another’s Will To One’s Own, To Bring Pain To One’s Enemy, To Taint The Dreams Of An Other – it was the books themselves. The leather covers felt slick and grim under his hands, and he only hoped they were indeed leather … from an appropriate animal, he mentally specified. The pages, while seemingly quality parchment, had a twitching, resistant feel, as if unwilling to be read by Harry. The printed words edged away from his focus, as though his glasses were smudged with oil. So much so that he took his glasses off and cleaned them twice before realising it was the print itself.

He managed to read for twenty minutes before he put both books down and stood up, shaking the sense of contamination from his hands. Malfoy looked up at him, inquiring.

‘The books,’ Harry said in explanation. ‘Don’t you feel it?’

Malfoy shrugged. ‘They’re Dark Magic.’

‘I suppose you’re more used to it …’

Malfoy dropped his books heavily. ‘Fuck you, Potter. It doesn’t matter what I do, does it?’

‘Oh for fuck’s sake. That is not what I meant,’ Harry snapped. And then stopped, with his hand held up, fingers splayed. 

Malfoy glared at him in confusion. 

Harry took five deep breaths. He’d have to tell Hermione, she’d be so proud. It actually worked. 

‘Stop,’ Harry said. ‘We need to stop. Or it will just end stupidly, the way everything used to.’

Malfoy stood up. ‘I need to go for a walk,’ he said, calmly. ‘Outside. Just for a bit. I’ve spent most of the past five days sitting down in enclosed spaces, and … if I have a walk, it will all be better.’

Harry nodded. He should have offered to go along, but the prickly anger was still too close to his skin. Instead, he reminded Malfoy to stay close, and to call if he needed help.

‘I have a wand,’ Malfoy reminded him. ‘And a bunny pendant.’

The smile that came to his lips surprised Harry almost as much as it appeared to startle Malfoy. ‘See you soon, then,’ Harry said.

Malfoy paused at the tent flap. ‘Potter,’ he said, without looking around. ‘Thank you for the wand.’

Harry was grateful for the respite. From the research more so than from Malfoy. He picked the books up from the floor and placed them on Malfoy’s chair, noting that Malfoy’s list of possible spells was a little longer than his own. 

He considered reading on, but his head ached a little from the book, and his bladder was full, and he hadn’t had a cup of tea in a while, so he started with the loo and went on from there.

Malfoy reappeared just after the kettle boiled and in time to ask for black with lemon, and maybe a bit of that chicken if it was still going.

Harry passed him his tea, followed by a plate of chicken, and then followed him over to the table to sit and sip and gnaw quietly on a chicken leg. He waited until they had both eaten a little before he spoke. 

‘I meant to say that you lived around those books, and they would have been less of a shock to you.’

Malfoy kept his eyes on his tea. ‘It’s all right. I know you weren’t being a … weren’t trying to be offensive. Can you understand that I’m …’ his voice trailled off, and he took refuge in the tea.

‘… You’re mourning your friend, falsely accused and having to turn to someone you don’t particularly like for help?’ Harry completed the sentence for him.

‘You volunteered yourself,’ Malfoy corrected him. ‘But yes, the other bits …’ He took a deep breath and pushed his hair back. ‘Anyway, we should crack on with it.’ He stood and took the empty plates and cups over to the kitchen sink. 

Harry was pleased to see that he left them on the draining board: a Draco Malfoy who voluntarily did the dishes would have required a substantial rethink in his worldview.

The books were less confronting after a cup of tea. Malfoy was considerably faster than Harry and took his second book from him before Harry was more than halfway through the first. Sustained by cups of tea and the rest of the chicken, they drew up their lists, and at the end of nearly two hours were able to return to the table and compare notes. 

‘Is this what it’s like being an Auror?’ Malfoy asked as he smoothed out his sheets of parchment.

‘A lot of the time,’ Harry admitted. ‘Though we have a bigger staff, and some people who really enjoy the paperwork and research.’

‘While you’re more of a running around rescuing type.’

Harry gave a warning look, but Malfoy ventured a small smile.

‘I speak from experience and have benefitted from your hobby,’ he said.

‘Well, it is more fun,’ Harry admitted. ‘All right. I think we should sort these into types, there seem to be a few themes running through both lists. What do you think?’

‘I agree,’ Malfoy said, for possibly the first time as far as Harry was concerned. ‘There are four to give one desired strengths and abilities, then this whole set of – I suppose you’d call them attraction potions, but who in their right mind would kill someone for an effect that you could manage with cosmetics?’

‘They’re very likely not in their right mind,’ Harry pointed out. 

‘True. Then all of these ones for controlling the weather. They worry me. You can do a lot of damage with a weather spell. And there are the werewolf spells, to take on the powers or to cure the curse, which is rubbish, everyone knows you can’t cure lycanthropy, but that’s what you get from trusting 18th century lunatics.’

‘Was that a joke?’ Harry asked, determined to at least admit it was clever if it was.

‘What? No, oh, yes, I see. No. Would have been in poor taste. Anyway, there are a few ways that we can sort them out, but I think those are the four basic groups: Strengths, Desirability, Weather and Werewolves.’

Harry waved his wand over the pages and the notes reorganised themselves into the new order. 

‘Is that an Auror cataloguing spell?’ Malfoy asked, interested. ‘It’s neatly simple.’

‘McWiggins Librarian’s Friend,’ Harry told him. ‘Was very popular about a hundred years ago, but not used much now. Except by Aurors and old librarians.’

‘You’ll have to show it to me later,’ Malfoy said, then frowned. 

‘Sure,’ Harry said quickly. There was no reason he couldn’t manage to talk to Malfoy long enough to pass on a simple spell after this crisis was over and then they could go back to ignoring each other, which was what they did best.

A sizable part of his brain told him this was a barefaced lie, but Harry decided to ignore it.

‘This is the longest list,’ he said, picking up the one headed Weather. ‘I’d normally think that increased the chances of it being one of these spells, except that there’s too little to focus on.’ 

‘What does that mean?’ Malfoy asked.

Harry pointed at the second spell on the Desirability list. ‘This spell will only be used by a certain sort of witch, or maybe wizard. One who is so desperate to be found physically beautiful that they’re willing to do anything. I can think of maybe three people who would use a spell like that if they needed to take a teaspoon of blood from another person by force, I can’t think of anyone who would kill for it, but I bet if we searched, we might find ten across the country, and they would be the right ten, it would be one of them, because they’re the only ones who are that sort of person. 

‘But controlling the weather – it might be an insane hang-glider, or a farmer who wants to blight their hated neighbour’s crops, or a terrorist who plans to wipe out a town … there are too many possibilities to narrow it down past Very Bad People.’

‘I see,’ said Malfoy. ‘But surely Very Bad People are exactly the ones we should be going after?’

Harry kept his face blank as he looked at Malfoy’s. There was no irony or sarcasm there. ‘As a general rule, it’s a good one,’ he agreed. ‘The problem is, there are quite a lot of them and some masquerade as perfectly good people.’

‘Like my father,’ Malfoy said matter-of-factly.

‘Yes,’ Harry replied, more cautiously. 

‘He was with my mother the whole time, and she wouldn’t give him a false alibi if it was over something that would hurt me.’

Harry replied even more carefully. ‘I don’t actually suspect your father for this …’

‘But we can cross one name off the list,’ Malfoy said. ‘It’s a start. Because you have a list, don’t you?’

And Harry nodded, because he did, even if it was only a partial one and it had had Malfoy’s name at the top.

‘I thought you did. It has to be someone Pansy would let in through the Floo, doesn’t it?’ 

‘Yes.’

‘So when we check to see if the Floo Regulation Panel was conducting tests on Pansy’s part of the Network, you’re going to ask them to check out all of those addresses, too, aren’t you?’

Harry blinked. ‘I am now,’ he admitted. ‘That’s very good thinking, I can’t believe I missed it.’

Malfoy pressed his lips together firmly.

Harry noticed, and smiled at him. Malfoy managed a slow smile in return. The likelihood of them getting through this without serious hexing improved.

‘So,’ said Harry. ‘That leaves the Strengths and Werewolves spells. Strengths only has four, let’s check the other ingredients.’

They spent a few minutes cross-referencing, and were able to rule out two of the four immediately as they relied on ingredients that had not been available for centuries. 

‘Can you even imagine the experiments that decided dodo blood was the right ingredient?’ Malfoy asked, with a hint of disdain. 

‘I really want to make a joke about it being a fowl process, but I shouldn’t,’ Harry answered. 

Malfoy shook his head, which Harry admitted was better than he deserved.

‘It can’t be this one, either,’ Malfoy said, looking at another spell. ‘It needs to be cast at the winter solstice, and that was months ago. There’s no point killing her now when they could wait and have fresh blood closer to the event.’ 

He turned to the final spell, and paused. 

‘Is that one a possible?’ Harry asked. 

Malfoy turned the book and showed him. _To Attain Invisibility_ , it said, and then a list of ingredients that included _The blood and life of a brave woman_ amongst several commonplace items, and a method that was so simple even Harry felt confident he could manage it. Malfoy looked as green and ill as Harry felt. 

‘We’ll find him,’ Harry said impulsively. ‘Or her. Pansy may not have been a friend of mine, but she was a very good friend to those closest to her. She didn’t deserve this.’ 

It appeared to be the right thing to say. Malfoy looked less as though he was going to be sick, and more as he had that morning, when he had been keen for the hunt. Harry remembered something. 

‘Millicent Bulstrode sent me a letter about you.’

‘Really? What did she say?’

‘She said that it was all my fault you’d turned into a feckless layabout since I left you with a third-rate wand and that you were no more likely to have killed Pansy than I was to have punched Hermione, so could I please get off my lazy arse and go and sort things out.’

Malfoy was grinning – mostly at the abusive bits, Harry noted. ‘So is that why you came to Tallinn?’

‘Actually, her note only just reached me before I left, but she was quite right that you were always a ridiculous suspect.’

‘Thank you, Potter. That is easily the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.’

‘Not at all,’ Harry said, feeling the retreat of grimness about them. ‘So. New list, this spell’s at the top of it, and I think it points us towards someone planning something seriously criminal.’

‘Like breaking into and out of Gringotts,’ Malfoy suggested. ‘Or murdering the Minister. Should we warn them?’

‘I think so.’

‘Me too. Should we send an Owl or do we rope your house-elf into things again?’

‘Kreacher, I’m afraid. And I’ll need him to take a message about the Floo checking, too.’

Malfoy thought for a moment. ‘If you’re going to send messages to the Ministry, isn’t it going to be awfully hard to pretend you didn’t deliberately spring me from custody this morning?’

‘Yep. But in a worst-case scenario, I do think everyone’s been waiting for me to completely lose my mind for a bit, ever since the war ended.’

Malfoy said nothing. 

‘You,’ said Harry, ‘are getting really good at holding in your natural impulse to insult me.’

‘Basic politeness, under the circumstances.’

‘We should check through this werewolf list before we call Kreacher, just in case,’ Harry said. 

The spells in that list were the oldest, and Malfoy pointed out that many, like the werewolf cures, had since been discredited. The only one that stood out as a likely candidate was one that gave its caster the physical power of a werewolf. 

‘Ideal for an assassin,’ Malfoy pointed out. 

‘Kingsley’s the only likely target,’ Harry mused. ‘No-one else has a profile half so high.’

Malfoy scoffed. ‘Except you, the Muggle Prime Minister, the Royal Family, Rita Skeeter, the Weird Sisters …’ 

‘Bugger … Stop being right. OK, I’m writing directly to Kingsley. He’s most likely to be able to protect everyone in time, and warn Gringotts about thieves, and to shield the two of us from any fallout when we come in.’ Harry pulled out his quill and got to work on the letters.

‘And who’s going to protect you from this potential assassin?’ Malfoy asked.

‘Since we’ve established you’re not a homicidal maniac, I’m safe enough for the moment, and I’m assuming you’d give me a heads-up if you saw anyone waving a wand at me.’

There was a deliberate pause while Malfoy elaborately thought about things. ‘I do need to keep you alive until we’ve cleared my name,’ he decided. ‘But do you really need to tell the Minister to protect Skeeter? She’s a very unpleasant witch.’

‘You were all for her when we were at school,’ Harry reminded him. 

‘And then she did the Death Eaters Who Deserve Dementors special to mark the fifth anniversary of the war,’ Malfoy reminded him.

‘How awful,’ said Harry. ‘Makes me glad I don’t take the _Prophet_.’ There was no reason for Malfoy to know about the framed copy of the article behind Ron’s desk at the Ministry. ‘Right. I’m done. Do you want to want to wait outside while Kreacher comes?’

Malfoy rolled his eyes, so Harry took out his mirror and waited until the elf checked in. 

Kreacher arrived without food or weapon this time, though it clearly cost him. He took the letters and instructions and departed again, with hopes to see Harry soon and only a quick glare at Malfoy. 

‘So,’ said Malfoy. ‘Now we wait?’

‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ Harry said. ‘Now we start narrowing down the list of Very Bad People and we go after them.’

****************************

The Auror office was having a quiet day. 

‘Potter back?’ one of the trainees asked, sticking his head around the corner of Harry’s office.

‘Not yet,’ came the reply from Harry’s assistant, not bothering to raise his eyes from his novel. 

‘I’ve got a report due, but I haven’t finished it …’ the trainee confessed. ‘Do you know when …’

‘He was due in court this morning. The Estonians are very thorough, I’d say you’ll be safe if you get it to my in tray by four. I’ll tell him you dropped it in first thing this morning.’

‘You’re a mate, Smiggins.’

‘You can buy me a drink.’

‘You’re on. Have we heard anything about the trial?’

‘Not a word,’ said Smiggins, turning his page ostentatiously. 

The trainee took the hint and left, spreading the word that this was a day for long lunches as he went.

****************************

There were a very small number of upsides to centuries of foreign occupation and political unrest, mused Uurija Evald Kask. A system that could quickly unite for the good of the country when it mattered was one of them. 

Advokaat Ruohonen had taken charge of the situation once the Doxies had been cleared. She had walked into the courtroom and asked for a continuance due to her client’s sudden and unexpected ill health, which had been granted as a matter of form. 

Then she had walked back out, heels clicking a double-tempo beat on the tiled floor, summoning Uurijas Kask and Tamm to fall in behind her as she passed them. They, being experienced officers of the law, immediately did so without question. Because one day, they might need her to display this much force on their behalf.

She had an office in the Old Ministeerium, and led them directly to it. Evald had already run through the sequence of events with Veigo while everyone else was still coughing up Doxycide. Aside from a set of English shouts amid all the Finnish, there had been nothing to alert them to any problems, and they had only turned around a moment before Potter and Malfoy disappeared.

Ruohonen held the door open for them and closed it firmly behind them. Evald and Veigo took the two comfortable client chairs, while she went to the other side of her desk and took a bottle and three glasses from a drawer.

‘It’s a little early,’ Veigo began, but stopped at Evald’s swift ankle kick. 

Ruohonen poured a little from the bottle into each glass and handed them out, then raised hers in a toast. ‘To not being unemployed tomorrow!’ she declared. 

Evald drank his fervently, as did Veigo. 

‘So,’ said the Advokaat. ‘My client and the most famous wizard in the world disappeared. You ran out of time to tell me how before we went into court, I have time to listen now.’

Evald shook his head. ‘I can’t give you many more details, we only saw a few seconds of the escape. But it was only the two of them, Malfoy had taken Potter’s wand, and Potter did not look at all upset about the situation.’

He watched Ruohonen’s eyes widen with surprise, then turn to Veigo, who confirmed the details. 

‘So you are saying that you think it was a collaboration?’ Ruohonen asked.

Evald nodded. ‘I have met Potter before, several times. He has not been himself on this case.’

‘Draco was happy to talk in front of him,’ Ruohonen mused.

‘And Potter asked me very specific questions about the location of the trial and how the prisoner would be transported,’ Evald added.

‘We think Malfoy is innocent,’ Veigo weighed in.

‘Of course he is,’ Ruohonen said with all the certainty of the Counsel for the Defence. ‘Unfortunately, he’s now guilty of escaping custody and kidnapping a Senior British Auror.’

‘Unless Potter kidnapped him,’ said Veigo. 

Evald looked sharply at him, but Veigo lifted his chin. ‘It’s possible,’ he insisted. 

‘So, gentlemen, how do we deal with the fact that we have no prisoner to hand over or to return to the cells?’

Evald was a bright man, despite his mother’s complaints that he had wasted his intelligence going into law enforcement. He knew what the Advokaat was not saying. ‘You have just told the Court that Malfoy is too ill to appear, so we can legitimately extend his absence from our cells on health grounds. But we need a place that he could feasibly be …’

‘Uurija, we are a cat’s whisker away from forming a conspiracy, I’m not bringing any other innocents into it,’ Ruohonen said. 

‘Evald, my name is Evald. And no, definitely no one else needs to be involved. But do you want to go to the British and tell them their favourite wizard has taken leave of his senses and run away with a suspected murderer for who-knows-what reason?’

Ruohonen shook her head. 

‘I can think of a reason,’ mused Veigo.

Evald shook his head, Ruohonen bit back a laugh. 

‘Can you find them?’ she asked.

‘I think so,’ Evald replied. ‘Malfoy was running when he came here, but he didn’t seem to be running away from Potter.’

‘No,’ Ruohonen agreed. 

‘So if they’ve teamed up, it only makes sense that they plan to investigate the crime together.’

‘It’s about time someone did,’ Ruohonen muttered.

Evald held up his hand. ‘We know. We read the reports, they were substandard and would not have passed muster in our system. However, if they are going to investigate the crime, then there are a certain number of places they will have to go. Veigo and I will go to those places and we will find them and bring them back.’

‘While I …?’

‘Take care of your terribly ill client at your well-guarded holiday house?’

‘Which is being guarded by?’

‘Veigo and me, of course. Where else would we be?’

‘Ah,’ said Ruohonen. ‘It could just work.’

Evald smiled. It was a good smile, it reassured people, while gently reminding them that he could hex them into next week without drawing his wand should they decide to cause him grief.

Ruohonen smiled back. Hers said that she recognised the precise value of Evald’s smile and that he would be cushioning her fall should this all go horribly wrong. 

Veigo looked blankly between them.

‘Off you go then,’ said Ruohonen. ‘And don’t come back without at least a signed statement from the British Ministry.’

Evald stood and reached out to shake her hand in a bargain. 

‘You should call me Meeli,’ she said, clasping it. ‘And if you pull this off, I will pay for the celebratory dinner.’

‘Excellent. Up you get, Veigo. We’re going travelling. You’ll need an umbrella.’

****************************

Surely it must be lunch, Draco thought. Not that he was hungry after two and a half breakfasts, but he wouldn’t mind a quick sit-down. Potter had dragged him across what seemed to be the length and breadth of Great Britain (including Lancashire, which, _really_ ), in search of Jugson, a former Death Eater with family connections to the Parkinsons, who Draco vaguely recalled as one of the men his father had known back when Draco had been a boy. 

‘He was caught trying to break out of Azkaban with your father,’ Potter had said, ‘but gave evidence in return for no additional sentence. He was released a few years ago, nursing a strong grudge against the Ministry and a sense of self-righteous anger.’

Which had sounded like a perfect candidate to Draco, only the man hadn’t been at the address Potter had for him, nor had he been at his mother’s – though she had suggested they go and try that nice young witch he’d been seeing, and now here they were in Cardigan, Merlin help them, and that nice young witch had them bailed up on her doorstep and was asking what they wanted with Hephaestus and who had sent them to her.

And Draco had been all for Stunning her where she stood, but Potter had been genial and explained they needed to eliminate Hephaestus from their enquiries, and if he had a few minutes to answer a few questions, he was sure that would clear everything up, at which point the man himself had emerged from the shadows of the cottage’s interior and declared that everything would be fine, and could Maeve see her way fit to making them a pot of tea?

He led them, somewhat stiffly, into a small but pleasantly furnished sitting room and moved a stack of books from the coffee table. 

‘Please, sit down,’ he said, which Draco did in a flash, but Potter stayed standing and wary. 

Jugson, a tall and broad man who now looked quite familiar, nodded at Draco. ‘You’re Lucius’s boy, aren’t you?’

‘Yes. Draco. We met a few times at the Manor, and you were at my father’s fortieth birthday party.’

‘That’s right,’ Jugson smiled at the memory. It had been a splendid party. ‘How’s your father?’

‘Still deluded,’ Draco answered with a sigh.

Unexpectedly, Jugson burst out laughing. Potter took the opportunity to step in.

‘Mr Jugson, I’m Harry Potter from the Auror Office.’ 

‘I know who you are,’ Jugson said, with an ironical smile.

Potter went on, ‘I’m investigating a crime that took place on June 22nd, that’s Thursday of last week. Your name has come up as a contact of the family and I’m just wanting to have a quick chat to see if there’s anything you can add to our understanding of the case.’

‘Of course,’ said Jugson. ‘But can you ask quickly? I’d rather keep Maeve out of things if we can.’

‘Because she’s unaware of your past?’ Potter asked, leadingly.

Jugson laughed again. ‘Hardly. She’s there on the nights I wake up screaming. How would I explain that without years of Dementors? No, she gets angry when people only see me as a criminal and a Death Eater.’

‘And you?’

He looked at Potter evenly. ‘I know I was both.’

This seemed to be the right answer, as Potter nodded and sat down.

Jugson wasn’t what Draco had been expecting. He’d rather been hoping for a wild-eyed lunatic who would leap from the door, wand drawn, be struck down by a combination of hexes delivered in courageous and timely fashion by him and Potter, rave that they all deserved to die and be dragged off by an apologetic Auror corps who would offer Draco their regard and thanks at the same time as saying there was no one who could put anything past Potter.

And here he was, well-brushed and with eyes that were maybe a little more haunted than was ideal, but which also held a degree of self-mocking humour that boded well for sanity.

‘Last Thursday?’ Jugson asked. ‘I’m not sure what time I woke up, but it would have been before eight. Normal breakfast things, sorry, no idea what I ate, I can check with Maeve if it’s important. I was into town and at work by nine-thirty, I’m working in the forge as an apprentice blacksmith – Muggle job, I know, but it’s hard to get work if you’ve been in Azkaban, and there’s a fine line between the Muggle world and magic in a smithy and Mr Davis – he’s my boss there – didn’t care about my age when he saw what I can lift and how long I can hammer for. He can vouch for me. I should be there today, but I pulled my back yesterday and he told me to take a day’s rest. 

‘Half an hour for lunch, which was sandwiches with the other apprentices – Dylan and Tim – and then back in the smithy till four, then clean-up till five. Maeve met me in town because we eat out on Thursdays, it was early, so we went for a walk and then had a drink before dinner at the White Hart Inn, you can ask Debra there, she’ll remember us, we’re regulars. We took our time, but it was still fairly early when we left, before nine at any rate. So we walked home because it was a nice night, and were here for the rest of the evening.’

‘A former Death Eater working for a Muggle?’ Potter asked.

‘Apparently, Voldemort was full of crap,’ Jugson said, with a sly wink to Draco.

Dammit. He found himself liking Jugson, which meant he was either an appalling judge of character, or that Jugson was innocent. Of course, history allowed that it could well be the former, Draco consoled himself.

‘You know the Parkinson family …’ Potter said. 

‘They’re cousins of mine,’ Jugson replied. ‘Has something happened?’

‘Have you heard from them in the last week?’

‘No, not in years. Second-Cousin Marjorie cut me out of the family after I was sent to Azkaban. She forbade them from even speaking to my Mother.’ And the flash of anger that crossed his face at that reminded Draco of what this man had been years ago. Compelling and strong – and a little frightening.

‘And do you take any of the Wizarding papers?’

‘Do you?’

Potter shook his head. ‘I read them at work when I have to, and rely on other people to let me know anything important. I read the Muggle papers for the weather.’

Jugson smiled, the first smile he had directed at Potter. ‘Well then, we have something in common.’ But it was followed by a frown. ‘What’s happened?’

‘Pansy Parkinson’s been murdered,’ Potter told him.

‘Little Pansy? But she’s a child! Who? How …?’ Jugson’s voice wound down as he realised the reason for their visit. ‘You thought I might have …’

‘You had to be ruled out,’ Potter said, raising a hand peaceably.

Jugson nodded, breathing roughly. ‘Can you tell Gerald and Margaret how … how sorry I was to hear …’

‘I will,’ Potter promised. ‘Can you suggest anyone who may have held a grudge against Pansy?’

‘She’s just a child? Who holds a grudge against a child?’ Jugson muttered, clearly distressed.

Maeve returned at the moment, carrying a tray of tea apparatus. She glanced at Jugson, then glared at Draco and Potter. 

‘It’s all right, darling,’ Jugson said, reaching out an arm to pat her leg as she put the tray down. ‘I’ve just had some bad news about a family member. These young men are on the case. We’re fine.’

Maeve left everyone to pour their own and sat on the arm of Jugson’s chair. ‘If it’s not your mother, then I don’t see why we’re meant to care about your family,’ she said, more than a little tartly.

‘Mother’s fine. It’s young Pansy. She’s been killed.’

‘That’s awful.’ Maeve put her arm around his shoulders and kissed the side of his head gently.

‘The poor little lamb with her big eyes and her silly little nose. She was always checking my pockets for sweets whenever I visited.’ He shook his head. ‘I can’t think of anyone who’d wish her ill, though you should talk to Second-Cousin Marjorie, she knows every piece of gossip and every dubious connection in the family.’

‘Do you have an address for her?’ Potter asked, pouring a full cup of tea for Jugson and adding sugar to it, then pouring a half cup each for himself and Draco. 

‘Hyacinth Cottage, Bucket Street, Binley Woods,’ Jugson answered promptly, then downed his tea in two swallows. ‘It’s seared into my memory from boyhood visits – I promised myself that if I ever had children, I’d never force them to visit that old biddy.’

‘No more you will,’ Maeve agreed. ‘If we have little ones they have a lovely grandma, and some very nice relatives on my side. No need to involve the horrors we don’t care for.’

Jugson smiled up at her. Potter looked at Draco across the lip of his teacup, but Draco wasn’t sure he understood all the meaning in the look.

‘Well, thank you very much for your assistance with our enquiries,’ Potter said, putting down his cup. ‘We should chase down that lead before the day gets away from us.’

Jugson frowned. ‘Don’t you want to check with Maeve and Mr Davis?’

Potter shrugged. ‘I don’t think we need to. We can always Veritaserum them later if it turns out we should have doubted you, but at the moment, I’m happy to take you at your word, and thank you for the suggestion.’

Jugson rose stiffly to his feet as Potter stood. ‘Thank you,’ he said.

‘Thank you,’ Potter replied, and took his outstretched hand. An understanding of some kind passed between the two of them, but Draco managed not to roll his eyes at the sight of yet another perfectly rational person falling for Potter’s earnestness.

Maeve showed them to the door, and unexpectedly hugged them both. ‘Good luck!’ she said. ‘I’m sorry I was so rude, it’s just that he’s had a hard time convincing people he’s changed.’

‘He has,’ Potter assured her. ‘Tell them to ask me if they doubt it.’

Maeve hugged him a second time before shutting the door behind them.

‘So,’ Draco said. ‘Not him?’

‘You heard him, he still thinks Pansy’s a little girl. He hasn’t seen her since she was, and he’s forgotten that time’s gone by for everyone else while he was in Azkaban.’ 

Draco nodded. ‘I remember him when I was little. He used to come by the Manor, back when Dad was playing at being Lord Influential. Then, when Voldemort came back … Anyway. I quite liked this version of him.’

‘Last time I saw him he tried to kill me, so I prefer this one, too.’

Draco was just a little too slow at schooling his expression. 

‘You like him more now, don’t you?’ Potter asked.

‘Just a bit.’ 

Potter grinned, so Draco assumed he wasn’t deeply hurt. 

‘Right,’ Draco said. ‘You’re off to see Pansy’s hideous Aunt Marjorie. Which means I’m back to put my feet up in your tent and hope your homicidal house-elf doesn’t visit.’

‘You’re what?’ Potter began, and Draco could almost see the cogs turn as his brain stepped its way through the thought process. ‘Of course, she knows you, and even though I’m an Auror and theoretically have you in custody, she’d call in more to be on the safe side. But I was going to disguise you and pass you off as someone from the office!’ Potter finished triumphantly.

‘Brilliant,’ Draco muttered. ‘No wonder you’re such a successful Auror.’

‘Shut up. And put your bunny pendant back on.’

They both took out their pendants and dropped them over their heads. That was the problem with a good Concealment Charm: it could work too well. Even though it was only meant to hide them from people they didn’t want to notice them, the Charm was able to slip them out of the memories of everyone else, too. It had kicked into gear twice in the middle of their morning interviews, leaving a couple of lovely old witches extremely surprised to find themselves mid-discussion with two nice young men. Potter had insisted they take them off before entering each house after that, rather than leave people thinking their minds were slipping.

‘Now, come here,’ Potter said, taking out his wand. 

‘Why? What are you going to do?’

‘Don’t panic. I’m going to change your hair colour and change the shape of your nose a bit. That should be enough. You already look less like yourself in my clothes.’

Draco wasn’t sure about the sound of this. ‘But they’ll go back the way they were, right?’ 

‘Absolutely,’ Potter said, touching his wand to Draco’s hair, eyebrows and nose in turn. ‘I should be able to change them back, and in the worst case, the spell wears off in three or four hours.’

Draco’s hands flew to his nose, which had broadened and turned up a little at the end – it didn’t hurt, as such, but it felt very odd. Then his eyes turned up to see his fringe …

‘You complete and utter bastard …’

Potter’s grin may have been the slightest bit malicious. ‘I’m planning to introduce you as Barny Weasley,’ he explained. 

‘That’s no reason to make me a ginger!’ Draco grumbled. ‘I know we don’t like each other, Potter, but there are limits, and we’re meant to be working together.’

‘I usually work with gingers,’ Potter replied, annoyingly unflapped. 

Draco kept silent, aware that a chorus of Reasons Why I Hate Potter would only be shrugged off, or worse, laughed off. He was starting to miss old Potter, it had been so easy to get a rise out of him. But that had been years ago, and Potter had grown up, and become an Auror, and also been sort of dead for a bit in the interim, and that had to change a person. The bastard.

Pansy would laugh herself sick when he … no she wouldn’t. 

‘Malfoy? Malfoy, are you still with us?’ 

Potter was staring at him, eyes very large in those ridiculous glasses.

Draco blinked. ‘I’m fine.’

‘No you’re not. You were miles away and your face was all screwed up, and if you tell me that was because the thought of red hair was mortally wounding to you, I might forget myself and hex you after all.’

‘I forgot,’ Draco admitted. ‘I forgot Pansy was …’

‘Oh.’ And all the mocking was gone from Potter’s face now. ‘That happens. It’s normal. It’s good in a way, means we keep them with us after they’re gone.’

‘But then you have to remember they’re not here,’ Draco said quietly.

Potter nodded. ‘I think about it this way: we only hurt if we lose someone who was really special, but then, we had that person in our lives, they chose to spend time with us, and we carry their influences with us forever, so, along with the hurt, we can remember everything that was good and amazing.’

‘And gone.’

‘Yeah, but …’ Potter looked thoughtful. ‘But not gone at the same time. Because look at the effect Pansy’s having. You and I have spent five straight hours in each other’s company and there hasn’t been more than a hint of potential homicide. That’s her, still with us.’

‘I really, really hate it when you’re right,’ Draco said, managing a weak smile.

Potter patted him on the shoulder, and Draco wanted to mind it, but didn’t. 

‘Come on,’ Potter said. ‘Aunt Marjorie. And remember, you’re a Weasley, so keep quiet about how much you hate me at the moment.’

Binley Woods was a newish village in an unexciting part of the Midlands. Most of the houses seemed to have been built in the last hundred years, and the gardens even more recently, with sharp-angled hedges a local speciality. Bucket Street was at the edge of the village, and Hyacinth Cottage down a spur of unpaved road, with trees shielding it from casual eyes and anti-Muggle spells protecting it from charity collectors. 

Potter led them straight to the front door, which was opened before they had a chance to knock by a large witch wearing a slug-grey robe with wispy fur trim at every edge.

‘What do you want?’ she demanded imperiously, and Draco would have been happy to stammer an apology and leave right then and there, because quite aside from the whole suspect in Pansy’s murder thing, there was the spilled cup of tea incident of 1992, the caught nicking cooking sherry contretemps of 1994 and the Pansy, I Don’t Ever Want To See You With That Boy Again ultimatum of 1996. 

But Potter flashed a card from his pocket and said, ‘Senior Auror Harry Potter, Probationary Auror Barny Weasley, we need to ask you some questions surrounding the death of Pansy Parkinson.’

Which, astonishingly, worked. 

‘It’s about time you arrived, I’ve been expecting you since last Thursday. I can’t believe it’s taken you this long to talk to the only member of the family with any sense. I suppose that Gerald and Margaret have been taking up all your time with stories about that Malfoy boy. Not that I doubt for a moment that he’s guilty, nasty little piece of work, but if you think he had the intelligence to commit a successful crime without assistance, then you are seriously over-estimating him.’

‘May we come in?’ Potter asked. 

Aunt Marjorie looked for a moment as though she thought the doorstep was perfectly good enough for the likes of them, but relented and allowed them past, shooing them towards the back of the house and the third-best sitting room.

‘I might have thought that the Aurors would have sent someone less youthful,’ she sniffed. ‘But I suppose they’re taken in by your celebrity. In my day it was merit, not headlines, that saw promotion, but things have changed now.’

‘Yes they have,’ Potter said, perching on the edge of an overstuffed sofa that contained three beady-eyed Kneazles, all looking on him as an interloper.

Draco had played this game before, so he took the piano stool up against the wall, well out of swiping range. 

‘Now,’ Aunt Marjorie began. ‘As you know, Pansy was always a troublesome child …’ 

‘If you don’t mind,’ Potter interrupted, ‘I have a few questions I’d like to ask.’

And clearly Aunt Marjorie did mind, but she also shut up. There were, Draco reflected, a few upsides to working with Potter. 

‘Where were you on the afternoon of Thursday, June 22nd, between the hours of four and five?’

Draco reassessed. There were more than a few upsides to working with Potter. The opportunity to see Pansy’s Aunt Marjorie sputter and redden and swallow all the terms of abuse that started to form on her lips as she remembered that she was talking to the Deputy Chief Auror despite the fact that he was clearly an appalling little tit was something that would probably never come again, so he took the time to enjoy it and be appropriately grateful.

Finally she composed herself enough to reply. ‘I was at my monthly Willing Witches meeting. We were discussing ways of dealing with the curse of schoolchildren in Diagon Alley during the holidays. If their parents can’t control the little …’

‘Yes, quite,’ Potter interrupted. ‘And I am sure that you will be able to supply the names of some of the other attendants so that we can verify this?’

‘Young man, I refuse to be …’

‘Purely a matter of form,’ Potter interrupted again. ‘We’ve had to do this for everyone. Obviously there’s no question of seeing you as a suspect, but we need to dot the i’s, cross the t’s, as it were.’

Aunt Marjorie appeared a little mollified. ‘Well, in that case. Augusta Longbottom was there, although she was tremendously unsupportive, and …’

‘Mrs Longbottom will do,’ Potter interrupted yet again. ‘She’s known to be absolutely reliable. When was the last time you saw Pansy?’

‘Augusta is … Oh … Oh, not for ages,’ Aunt Marjorie started to say, and Draco looked up sharply, because he knew for a fact that was a lie, but then she paused. ‘No, I’m forgetting myself. She was here the week before she died. Tuesday, perhaps? No, Wednesday. Yes, the same day Peter Brown, poor Lavender’s father, was here. She just appeared at the door, wanted some sort of favour. She came in and took a cup of tea, but she could see I had company, so she left again soon after.’ 

‘Did she say what the favour was?’

‘No details – just something about an old samovar. Her parents were fighting over it, which is ridiculous because Margaret has no claim to it whatsoever, it came from my great-grandfather and by rights it should have been mine, but Gerald was always father’s favourite. She was as polite as one could hope for, but she made her excuses and left quickly enough.’

Potter took a notebook from his pocket and began to write in it. ‘I see. That’s very helpful. Now, can you think of anyone who might have borne a grudge against Pansy?’

‘Well, of course, there’s the Malfoy boy, who was always getting her into trouble. I’ll never forget the time I found him holding her up so she could reach my top shelves and swipe the cooking sherry. Nasty piece of work, just like his father. And of course that mother of his …’

‘Saved my life and was pivotally instrumental in the defeat of Voldemort,’ Potter declared evenly. ‘I’m looking for other suspects as we have reasons to believe that Malfoy was not the only visitor to Pansy’s rooms that afternoon. She seems to have allowed someone else through the Floo, we were wondering if perhaps there are any family members with less upstanding reputations than the rest of the Parkinsons?’

‘Only very _distant_ relatives, of course,’ Aunt Marjorie said quickly. ‘Not actual Parkinsons, as such. There was one who,’ she lowered her voice and leaned in towards Potter, ‘ _went away_ for several years. He’d be worth looking at. Nasty piece of work.’

‘We’ve spoken with Hephaestus Jugson, you’ll be pleased to learn that he seems on the path to genuine reformation and has all the marks of becoming a successful member of society once more.’

Aunt Marjorie’s face announced that she was anything but pleased. ‘How marvellous to see the system working as it ought.’

‘Anyone else?’ Potter urged.

‘Surely one black sheep in the family is enough, Auror Potter. We Parkinsons pride ourselves on being moral, upstanding citizens.’

‘Naturally.’ Potter flicked through the notebook’s pages until he found what he was looking for. ‘So that brings me to ask whether any other members of the family have received any unwanted attentions in recent years?’

At this, Aunt Marjorie’s expression perked up. ‘You think that it could be a vendetta?’ she asked.

Potter shook his head slowly. ‘We prefer not to use terms like vendetta, Miss Parkinson. But we have had a few cases in which members of a particular family were targeted for various reasons.’

Aunt Marjorie looked quite bright for a moment, but it faded as she thought. ‘Nothing, really,’ she admitted. ‘Not the immediate family at any rate. At least, not for a long time. Young Fredegund Bede, she had the most terrible trouble after the War, all those people calling her a Snatcher, but it was all a mistake, she was always a good girl, quite my favourite niece, well, she takes after my side of the family, doesn’t she?’

‘Pansy didn’t have a cousin Fredegund,’ Draco said, forgetting himself.

Aunt Marjorie had clearly forgotten he was there, because she jumped, then snapped to cover her surprise. ‘I think I would know my own family better than you, young man.’

Potter’s expression remained calm. ‘Probationary Auror Weasley has been studying the paperwork, Miss Parkinson. This cousin Fredegund isn’t mentioned.’

Somewhat mollified, Aunt Marjorie leaned over towards them both. Potter made the mistake of edging backwards and was rewarded by several Kneazle claws to the behind. Draco was impressed when he kept silent. 

‘It’s quite the scandal,’ she confessed. ‘Our brother Mortimer’s first marriage was to a good German girl, but the family never liked her. When they separated, she returned to Germany with their young daughter. He’s been an appalling father ever since, only concerned with his second wife and their children. I think I’m probably the only member of the family who stayed in touch. Fredegund used to stay here during some holidays when she was at Hogwarts.’

‘She went to Hogwarts?’ Potter asked, genuinely making notes this time.

‘For the first two years, then she transferred to Durmstrang because she was unimpressed with the politics of the teaching staff. This would all have been long before your time, of course, back in the Eighties. She moved back over here in the late Nineties, for a good job with the Ministry.’ Aunt Marjorie coughed slightly to elide mention of the department. ‘Then when the War ended, she went back home rather than deal with the changed … political situation.’

‘So she’d have been working with Dolores Umbridge,’ Potter said matter-of-factly.

‘Yes. Say what you like, Auror Potter, but there is a difference between us and the Muggleborn.’

‘They work harder at school,’ Draco said, aware that he would never again have the chance to correct Aunt Marjorie with impunity. ‘And they have a more complicated time discussing homework with their parents. I think that’s about it.’

He was rewarded with a prize glare. ‘Barny Weasley, you said.’ Aunt Marjorie pronounced the name as though discussing biological waste. ‘I’ll have to apologise to Augusta Longbottom, I told her she must have heard wrongly at that wedding, but apparently I have lost track of Weasleys. Hardly a surprise, there’s so many of you.’ 

‘Dozens,’ said Draco cheerfully. ‘All pureblooded. Makes you think, doesn’t it? And then there’s Hermione Weasley, married into the family, as Muggleborn as they come, and the finest legal mind in the country. You never can tell.’

Aunt Marjorie’s expression made it very clear that she could tell quite well as far as he was concerned, but for the sake of Potter’s moving quill, she kept quiet. Potter himself was looking at Draco with frank amusement, and Draco confessed, he was feeling more than a little amused himself. 

He could even admit that Pansy would have laughed at that, and feel pleased at the thought. 

Potter was speaking again. ‘And there’s no one else you can think of who might be able to shed any light on Pansy’s murder.’

‘No. I always told Gerald that if he didn’t step in and make that girl …’

‘Thank you for your time, Miss Parkinson. We can see our own way out.’

And Potter just stood up and left, collecting Draco as he went and ignoring the outraged mutterings of Aunt Marjorie. 

‘That was a bit brilliant,’ Draco confessed as they walked back onto the road outside. ‘The way you handled her has retroactively improved a great many childhood visits.’

‘That was extremely unpleasant,’ Potter corrected him. ‘I always feel the need to shower after spending time with someone like that.’

‘Ha!’ Draco snorted, then shook his head to dispel any suggestion he might be disagreeing. ‘Pansy used to spray us with rosewater whenever we came back from a visit. I’d make her pay me in chocolate frogs to go with her when we were little.’

‘I could do with either now,’ Potter admitted. ‘Maybe both.’

‘There’s chocolate back at the tent,’ Draco said. 

‘Good idea. Let’s go.’

There was chocolate, and tea, and quite a good pie as it turned out. Draco wouldn’t have believed he could be hungry again, but after several days of not eating a great deal, his appetite seemed to have returned. 

‘So, this cousin Fredegund,’ he said around a mouthful of pie. ‘How do we find her?’

Potter shrugged. ‘I’m not sure she’s worth chasing, Malfoy. If you’ve never heard of her, then maybe Pansy never did, either.’

‘We can’t be sure of that. And she’s the only lead we have.’

Potter shook his head gently. ‘We have others, Luna and Kreacher are tracking some of them down now. This could be a dead end, but just in case, is there anyone she would have talked to about Fredegund if she didn’t talk to you?’

‘Milly, probably,’ Draco mused. There had always been some things Pansy had kept secret from him, even if she told him most of them later. Tall, taciturn Milly had been her girly confidante of choice, a choice rewarded with loyalty and some good advice over the years. And Milly had yelled at Potter for him, bless her grumpy heart. By Owl, because there were some things not worth coming up to London for …

‘Can we trust Bulstrode about you? Or should you stay as Barny Weasley?’

‘We can trust her, but I should keep the carrot top in case she has visitors.’

‘OK. In that case, let’s talk to her now and see if she has any Fredegund details before your hair changes back, and if not, I’m going to see if Luna’s had any luck and get onto Kreacher to see how he’s going with the Floo details.’

Draco swallowed the last of his pie and tea and wiped his face hastily. ‘Should I clear the dishes?’ he asked, aware that he was a guest.

Potter gave him a strange look.

‘I am trying to be polite,’ Draco said. ‘We’re up to nearly six hours without a major fight or near-death incident, and that’s mostly down to good manners on both sides.’

Potter smiled. ‘I think we can crack seven without needing to do any dishes, don’t you?’

And, curse his face, Draco smiled back.

Getting to Milly’s was easy enough. Draco Side-along Apparated Potter to Milly’s South Downs cottage. From inside he could hear the clack of her looms operating, while two fat cats lazed in the sunny patch by the doorway. 

The gravel path crunched loudly underfoot, and so it was no surprise when Millicent opened the door before they could reach it. 

‘Potter,’ she said. ‘And friend. Did you get my letter? He’s not here if you’re looking for him.’

‘Are you alone?’ Potter asked. 

‘Except for the cats,’ Millicent replied. 

‘Then I am here,’ Draco said.

She looked at him, then looked more closely. Then she threw back her head and laughed. Milly had always had a good laugh.

‘Oh, I’m sorry Draco, but you look like … well, you know what you look like. Tell me it’s only temporary!’

‘Potter promises it is. Can we come in?’

‘Of course.’

She sat them down around the kitchen table, which smelled of fresh bread and caramel. Milly’s cottage was always cosy. Since taking up weaving after school she had devoted all the larger rooms to her looms and the whir of shuttles, shake of heddles and smack of beaters from her works in progress formed a constant background murmur to the house.

‘Just a couple of twills on today, they’ll see to themselves. Cup of tea?’

‘No thanks,’ said Draco. ‘We’ve just had some.’

‘So,’ she said to Potter. ‘You got my letter.’

‘I did. And as you can see, I agree. Malfoy is many things, but he’s not a murderer.’

‘Well, if it had been you …’ Milly said, in the interests of strict accuracy. 

Draco winced. 

‘I nearly killed him once, you know,’ Potter said. ‘At school, it was an accident, but still.’

‘I remember. He used to whip his shirt off to show the scars at the slightest provocation.’

‘There were scars?’ Potter turned to him. 

Draco wondered if it was too late to go back to the Estonians. ‘We all had scars by the end of the war, Potter. You’re not that special.’

‘They were very faint,’ Milly confided. ‘We used to pretend we could see them to make him feel better, and he does look pleasant without a shirt.’

‘Milly!’

She ignored him. ‘So, I’m assuming you’re here because you want something. Hiding? You’re obviously on the lam. I can’t believe you’ve managed to corrupt Potter, Draco. Well done!’

‘I haven’t corrupted him, I’m helping with the case,’ Draco said, starting to regret coming here. The thing about Millicent was that she was very honest in her own bluff way. Very, very honest …

‘I accidentally kidnapped him,’ Potter said. ‘It was all a bit of a mix-up, but if we can solve Pansy’s murder quickly, I think it will all be fine. That’s why we’re here, we’re hoping you can help us with a lead.’

‘Of course.’

‘Fredegund Bede. Half-English, half-German, and apparently a cousin of Pansy’s. Have you ever heard of her?’

Millicent started to shake her head, then stopped. ‘Hang on, Bede? Freddy Bede? She was a Snatcher during the war. She tried to take little Dennis Creevey from Kings Cross Station when we were waiting to board the train in Seventh Year. I wasn’t having that. Snot-nosed little Gryffindor, but you don’t pick on the young ones. Save it for people your own age, I say. 

‘We got into a big shouting match after I sent the Creeveys off home, but she wasn’t so bad, really. Didn’t mind that they left, just didn’t want them getting on the train. Had no idea she was related to Pansy, though. Pansy was there and she didn’t know her from a bar of soap. She teased me for having made a conquest, but I think Freddy just wanted someone to talk to for a bit. I saw her again in Hogsmeade, and once not long after the war, said she was headed back to Germany and that things here had been more confusing than she was expecting.’

‘Do you know if she and Pansy had any contact later?’ Potter asked.

‘Not that Pansy ever told me about,’ Millicent replied. ‘I mean, she didn’t tell me everything, but she knew I knew Freddy, so I think she would have mentioned that.’

‘And Freddy herself, what was your impression of her?’

Milly thought for a moment. Draco sympathised. It was very hard to explain the losing philosophies to the winning side, even all these years later. 

‘She thought she was working for a legitimate government aim,’ Milly said. ‘She was as considerate and compassionate as she could be about it, while still doing her job well. She wasn’t a fanatic, nor was she violent, just methodical. You wouldn’t have liked her,’ she told Potter, ‘but I did.’ 

‘And have you seen her again since then?’

‘No. Hadn’t even thought of her in years. Are you sure about her being Pansy’s cousin? Pans was usually very good about family.’

‘There was a divorce …’ 

‘Oh, Pansy’s Uncle Mortimer. She always said there was some scandal there. She never really bothered to look into the facts, just decided he must have had a dalliance with a Muggle or a Goblin from the way the rest of her family wouldn’t talk about it.’

‘No, just a German, apparently,’ Draco said.

‘Ooh, nearly as bad from Aunt Marjorie’s point of view.’

‘Actually, she was quite in favour of Fredegund, we’ve just come from there.’

‘Poor things! Sure you don’t need a cuppa?’

Draco smiled. Millicent had terrorised the house-elves back at school with her demands for constant hot beverages, and nothing had changed.

‘So you don’t think that Fredegund would be a person of interest in our enquiry,’ Potter pressed.

Milly shook her head. ‘I just can’t see any reason. If she was angry with the family, why take it out on Pansy? She’d have been more likely to try to enlist Pans as a help to get her back in with her father or with the other Parkinsons. Pansy was a champion when it came to keeping on good terms with most of her relations.’

Potter nodded, and Draco wished he had a cup of tea after all so that he would have had something to stare at.

‘We’ve been at this all day, and we’re nowhere,’ he complained.

‘We’re not nowhere,’ Potter corrected him. ‘We’ve ruled a lot of things out, we have several lines of investigation still underway, and we just need more information. We’ve already established that it can’t have been you, so even if we fail on every other lead, we’ve succeeded on the most important one.’

Draco blinked.

‘Oh Potter,’ Milly said, reaching over and ruffling his hair. ‘You’re so predictably perfect.’

Draco couldn’t help himself, he buried his face in his arms and howled with laughter.

Milly and Potter were sensible enough to let him be for a few minutes. Milly even made a cup of tea and put it down in front of him. They made small talk, Potter asking Milly what led her to take up weaving, Milly asking Potter whether he was enjoying Aurordom as much as he had expected. Both expressed genuine interest in each other’s work and actually seemed to be getting on. 

If Pansy could see what her death had brought about, she’d probably demand someone kill her again. Draco forced himself to stop laughing, even though everything was absurd and clearly hysteria was the appropriate response.

‘Do you want to stop here for a bit, Draco?’ Milly asked when he looked up. ‘Take a nap? You look done-in. An hour’s sleep will do you the world of good. ’

Draco shook his head. ‘No, it’s all right. We have a tent. Potter and I are camping.’

Milly grinned. ‘Well, we know you are, but it’s news about Potter.’

‘Milly!’ 

‘You were the one always making unsubstantiated claims about him and Ron Weasley while we were at school …’

‘ _Milly_!’

Potter, thank Merlin, laughed. ‘Ron? Not a chance. Hermione would have killed me. Though _Charlie_ Weasley …’

‘Everyone gets a free pass if it’s _Charlie_ Weasley,’ Milly agreed.

‘I wish someone would murder me …’ Draco muttered.

‘We should get going,’ Potter said. ‘Thanks for your help, Millicent. Do you think you could find a contact for Fredegund in case we need it?’

‘I’ll send a few Owls,’ Milly promised. ‘And I won’t mention either of you in them.’

Draco kissed her cheek. ‘Thanks, Milly, you’re a dear.’

‘Come back if you need to, I was serious about hiding you. You keep him safe, Harry Potter, or I’ll come after you.’

‘I’ll keep him safe,’ Potter promised. ‘It was good to see you, Millicent. You look well.’

‘I am well. You should come back and take a look at some of my fabrics. Might make you something a bit nicer than those dreadful Muggly things you wear. And I bake on weekends.’

Potter grinned. ‘I will. I’ll bring the wine.’

‘Good lad.’

She saw them to the door, and waved as they Disapparated. 

Back in the forest, the tent was still mercifully tatty and cramped and Draco did not have to deal with any mental challenges beyond tolerating the scratch of Potter’s quill as he wrote up his notes. There was even some chocolate left.

He watched Potter as he wrote. Clearly Granger had been giving him lessons as he seemed to be literate enough these days. Draco could have sworn he was half-Troll back at school. Now he was like a Crup on a scent: focussed and determined. Draco could admire his tenacity, now they were on the same side for a change. 

Draco ignored the quiet voice that pointed out it wasn’t as much of a change as all that.

After a few minutes, Potter put his quill down. ‘Right. Until we hear back from Kreacher and Luna, I think that’s all up to date.’

‘You seem more confident than I feel,’ Draco muttered. 

‘It’s because I’m used to the way investigations unfold. We actually have some concrete information on this case, and leads for more data. It means that even though it all looks like a disconnected mess at the moment, there’s every chance that a pattern will emerge soon, and once it does, we’ll have our culprit.’

‘And until then?’

Potter checked his watch. ‘It’s just gone three o’clock. Kreacher won’t have heard back from the Floo Regulation Panel yet – they’ll get everything to him at four so that if I need to ask any questions in reply I won’t be able to get back to them before they all leave at quarter past, I’ve played their game before. Luna might be back with news on the knife, but I think we should give her an extra half hour to be sure. Unless you have any suggestions, sitting around waiting is probably the best bet.’

‘Is that what you do in the Auror Office?’

‘Unless there’s paperwork to catch up on. Which there usually is.’

Draco sat back in his chair and wished he had thought to borrow a book from Milly. ‘Do you like Auroring?’ he asked, since talking about the weather was obviously ridiculous.

‘I do, as it happens. Most of the time I deal with cases that are nice and straightforward: complete bastard endangers innocents, I stop them.’

‘So same old thing, then?’ Draco asked mildly.

Potter smiled and nodded. ‘What about you? You’ve been fairly quiet since school.’

Draco shrugged. ‘Keeping my head down. Out of necessity, not choice. Not many job opportunities for a Malfoy at the moment. I’ve been studying a bit, doing some Potions research. I was going to write to Longbottom and ask him about growing some of the more unusual herbs …’

‘You should.’

Draco managed not to roll his eyes. ‘It’s not quite as easy as that, though, is it, Potter? Even assuming he’s happy to look past everything that happened during the War, my Aunt tortured his parents into insanity.’

Potter caught Draco’s gaze and held it. ‘She killed my Godfather, who was my only chance of a remotely normal home life. She tortured my best friend, tried to kill my ex-girlfriend, and I’ve lost track of the number of times she tried to kill me. I still talk to you.’

Draco shrugged again. ‘You’re weirdly forgiving. And anyway, it’s been years.’ 

‘So’s Neville,’ Potter replied. ‘And that’s not my fault, you’re never around.’

‘I didn’t think I’d be particularly welcome.’ 

Draco looked away. ‘And I also thought that lack of welcome would have been perfectly reasonable. You forget the fact that I am capable of feeling shame, and that I do feel it. And that it’s easier to circumscribe my life down to a small circle that doesn’t remind me of my many failings.’

Potter didn’t move, but after a moment he said, ‘You wouldn’t have been turned away. I’d have made sure of that. It was my one real success, reconciliation for those who sought it. Because if we’d made distinctions, it would have been just like the Muggle-born Registration Commission. And we couldn’t be like that.’

Draco ran his hands through his hair. ‘That’s all very well for you, but perhaps I wanted to be turned away, perhaps I didn’t deserve to be forgiven.’

‘And what about now?’

Potter’s voice was so even and _reasonable_. Draco could see why he was such a success as an Auror, it was a voice you wanted to explain things to, so it could see why you had thought inking a Dark Mark on your wrist was a brilliant piece of political commentary. But of course, that was all in the past, now.

‘Pansy’s dead, that changes everything. I’d work with anyone who could help me find her killer.’

Draco looked up. Potter was smiling at him. 

‘So you can work with Neville after we sort this,’ he said. 

Draco gave up. ‘I’ll write to him,’ he promised.

Potter’s smile broadened. ‘Excellent.’

They sat in peace for a few minutes. 

‘So,’ said Draco. 

‘So,’ agreed Potter.

‘Did you really fancy Charlie Weasley?’ And Draco had been trying not to say that since they left Millicent’s, which just went to show that one should never relax one’s guard, not even for an instant.

Potter laughed. ‘Doesn’t everyone?’

Draco smiled. ‘So it’s a theoretical fancy.’

Potter looked down and smiled.

‘It’s _not_ a theoretical fancy? Potter, you’re seriously disrupting all my cherished and long-held opinions of you.’

Potter shrugged. ‘It was after Ginny dumped me for Viktor. Charlie came over to cheer me up. There was alcohol involved.’

‘Ah, so you were just drunk and it wasn’t anything serious?’

‘Not that time, no.’

‘Not that ti… Potter!’ And Draco realised that he was sitting there with his mouth open, but it was necessary, because if he tried to coordinate the effort required to lift his jaw, it wouldn’t leave him with enough willpower to stop his brain exploding. 

Potter leaned over and pushed Draco’s jaw up into place. 

‘It isn’t that unbelievable,’ he said. ‘I’m reasonably nice looking, allegedly the saviour of the Wizarding world, and Charlie’s quite easy, which he’ll tell you himself.’

‘You’re _Potter_ ,’ Draco exclaimed. ‘Pansy’s little cousin Arabella has a poster of you on her wall – several, actually, because Pans and I would draw moustaches on them – you’re meant to marry a nice girl and turn out perfect children, be running the Auror Department by the time you’re thirty and be Minister for Magic by the time you’re forty-five.’

He took a deep breath and went on before Potter could interrupt him. ‘Also, sleeping with your ex-girlfriend’s brother is just perverse!’

‘Charlie’s very attractive,’ Potter said, mildly. ‘And we didn’t sleep …’

‘Shut up!’

‘I’ve taken your mind off your problems.’

‘You’ve taken my mind off any desire to engage with reality.’

‘Marvellous. You sit there in a cloud of denial and I’ll shut my eyes for a few minutes. It’s been a long day.’

Infuriatingly, Potter leaned back in his chair and shut his eyes.

Draco lasted a minute. ‘Do you make a habit of it?’ he asked.

‘Have you seen the other Weasley boys?’ Potter replied without opening his eyes. ‘I mean, Bill’s very handsome, but he’s devoted to his wife …’

‘You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?’

Potter didn’t open his eyes, but he did smile.

Draco shook his head. There was no reason, really, why he should feel … miffed? Did anyone over the age of twelve feel miffed? Whatever the adult equivalent of miffed was, he had no excuse for it. It’s not as though he and Potter were friends. 

Just that, yesterday, when Potter had asked and Draco had told the truth, that had been a moment. And if Potter had said something in that moment, then that would have been a connection, a point of similarity. And now it turned out that there had been that point all along, except that in Potter’s mind, it apparently didn’t matter in the slightest.

Bloody typical.

 _And_ he was napping.

‘Are we off to Luna’s?’ Draco asked. 

‘Another ten minutes or so.’

‘Should we pack the tent up before we go? We’re staying there tonight, aren’t we?’

‘I should think so. We can if you like. You could do the dishes if you’re bored.’

Draco flung himself back in his chair and set to out-napping Potter.

He was more successful than he intended, because what felt like an instant later, Potter was pushing his feet off the table and telling him to wake up, it was time to go. The dishes had been done, the tent was clean, even down to the spider being evicted, and the books from Malfoy Manor were in a neat pile that Potter was shrinking to add to the load in his bag.

‘I let you have an extra quarter hour,’ Potter was saying. ‘You looked as though you needed it. But that should be enough to keep you going until tonight.’

‘Are we off to Luna’s?’ Draco asked, still a bit befuddled. 

‘As soon as you get up.’

Draco stood up and checked that his wand was still in his pocket. Since that was all he had, he was ready to go.

‘Outside,’ Potter said, leading the way. 

Dismantling the tent took even less time than erecting it had. Draco picked it up and handed it to Potter, happy to do his part of the workload.

Potter stowed it and looked around to check that no trace of them remained. ‘Right,’ he said. ‘Bunny pendant on?’

‘Yes.’

Potter took his arm. ‘Let’s go, then.’

There was no lag, Apparating alongside Potter. Usually Draco felt stretched as he travelled, but with Potter it was fast and direct. They appeared at the same point outside Luna’s house as the last time, and there she was again, sitting on the doorstep, with no red scarf in sight. And there in front of her was Veigo Tamm and his friend from the Estonian Aurors. 

He didn’t think, just grabbed Potter’s shoulder and pulled them out of there. He stumbled on landing, and would have fallen if Potter hadn’t steadied him. 

Potter looked up at the hazel trees surrounding them.

‘Malfoy, if this is Belarus, we’re going to have words.’

****************************


	3. Chapter 3

Kreacher had grown fond of Master Harry.

True, he was no Master Regulus – no house-elf had two Master Regulus’s in his life – but he was entertaining and fair and not a great deal of work to keep in line. He did have his little obsessions, like the Malfoy whelp, and forbidding Kreacher to beat himself with anything firmer than a lettuce leaf. But he was a simple wizard with simple needs that Kreacher found easy to meet, and Master Regulus would have approved of his passions for flying and defeating snake-faced half-bloods. 

So it was no hardship for Kreacher to traipse around the Ministry on his Master’s errands. The Minister had gone so far as to offer Kreacher tea and biscuits – biscuits from his very own personal tin! – to pass the time while he made investigations and then wrote a lengthy missive to Master Harry.

Even the Floo Regulation Panel, which was very likely the slowest institution in Great Britain, had very comfortable chairs in their waiting area, and no one seemed inclined to sit beside Kreacher, so he had a sofa entirely to himself.

‘Knife and a chicken!’ he muttered happily to himself, relishing the memory of Young Malfoy’s look. The wizard on the other sofa remembered he had somewhere else to be, and the two young witches who had been sitting beside him were suddenly very interested in the ceiling mouldings, and not at all curious as to why an aged house-elf would be peering at himself in a shard of mirror.

Kreacher didn’t mind. He was on a mission, which would assist Master Harry, and which would see confusion and dismay sown in the houses of their enemies. Whoever they were this time. 

It was quite a long time before the wizard who had taken Master Harry’s letter reappeared. He made a show of looking around.

‘Kreacher is the only house-elf here,’ Kreacher said, emphatically. 

‘Ah, there you are. Auror Potter’s elf, yes?’

Kreacher didn’t dignify that with a response.

‘Well, we’ve had a dig through the records, but I’m afraid that Auror Potter’s request was very broad, so we’ve not been able to narrow it down to anything specific for him.’ The wizard indicated the large pile of files in his arms. ‘I mean, we were running a full diagnostic of that area, as it happens, and so these are all the records for the Network connections for the time in question, but …’

‘Kreacher will take them to Master Harry,’ Kreacher said, reaching up.

‘What? Oh, no. I couldn’t possibly, these are original files, you see …’

‘You will make copies for Kreacher.’

‘Ah. Well, I suppose we could make copies, but it’s a time-consuming process, and I’m afraid it’s rather late in the day, that’s the sort of thing you should ask for before lunch, really.’

Kreacher beckoned. 

With an expression that clearly indicated he wasn’t too happy about it, the wizard bent over. 

‘Harry Potter will be very unhappy!’ Kreacher yelled.

The two witches on the other sofa fled the office.

The wizard’s colleagues picked him up from the floor and promised Kreacher they would have the copies with him in but a moment.

Kreacher sat back and cheerfully hummed a few choruses of the Chudley Cannon’s Team Song, which he was practising for Auror Ron Weasley. Ten minutes later the younger wizards appeared with a sheaf of papers, neatly wrapped up in brown paper and tied with string. They had even fashioned a little handle from the string and wrapped it with an old dishcloth so it wouldn’t cut into Kreacher’s hand.

‘We’ve checked they’re all correct and in order,’ one said.

‘And that they cover everything Auror Potter asked for,’ the other added.

‘My Master will be very pleased with you,’ Kreacher said, magnanimously, emphasising the latter pronoun perhaps a little more than was necessary.

Making sure he had the Minister’s letter tucked safely under his arm, he set off home. The clock had just gone a quarter to four when he got in, which meant it was time to check if Master Harry was in need of him yet. 

There was nothing in the mirror, and Kreacher was about to put it away when he caught sight of a rummaging hand. Sure enough, it was followed a few seconds later by a wild-haired head and bespectacled face. Kreacher smiled and gathered his papers to him.

For some reason, Master Harry and the Malfoy boy were standing in another forest. Kreacher shrugged. Master Harry had never been predictable. Not like Mistress Walburga. There was a witch for routine. 

‘Hello Kreacher, sorry for dragging you all the way to Belarus,’ Master Harry said.

‘Those are oaks, and hazels. It’s Langley Wood,’ Young Malfoy muttered. ‘I don’t even know where Belarus is.’

‘Near Latvia,’ said Kreacher, who had once helped Master Regulus research hiding places. 

‘Is it the big country behind Poland?’ the Malfoy asked.

‘I think so,’ said Master Harry. ‘I was never very good at geography. Where’s Langley Wood, anyway?’

Kreacher cleared his throat. ‘I have Master Harry’s papers.’

‘Brilliant! Thank you.’ Master Harry smiled at him, and Kreacher passed the papers over cheerfully. 

‘Are there any other tasks required? Only Kreacher was going to sharpen some of the knives this afternoon …’

Young Malfoy glared at him. Kreacher grinned. 

‘Actually, yes,’ said Master Harry. ‘Can you pop over to Luna Lovegood’s and see if there are Estonians waiting to arrest us?’

‘And find out how they got there!’ Young Malfoy added. 

‘They’re tracking us down exactly as I would,’ Master Harry said. ‘Evald’s their version of me. The question isn’t how they made it to Luna’s, the question is why? It should be the Aurors after us. If it’s Evald and his offsider, then there’s a possibility they’re keeping a lid on things for us.’

‘Well, then ask that,’ said the Malfoy whelp. ‘Are they planning to arrest us or are they just as mad as Potter?’

‘I’m not … Honestly, Malfoy, why would you even say …’

‘Kreacher will be back in a moment.’

They were still arguing as he left. 

Miss Luna’s house was a short step through space for Kreacher. He appeared outside, as it was rude to turn up inside unless invited, she had told him. She was there on her steps with two tall men in black robes, the Estonians Kreacher assumed. 

All three had turned at the sound of his Apparation, Kreacher smiled a greeting, and reminded himself to practise smiling when the Estonians flinched. Miss Luna smiled back. 

‘Hello, Kreacher! Has Harry sent you?’

‘Master Harry wishes to know if the Estonians are waiting to arrest him,’ Kreacher reported. Then, to be fair, added, ‘And that other boy wants to know if they’re insane.’

‘No to both,’ Luna said, cheerily.

Kreacher hazarded a glance at the Estonians, who were frowning in confusion. He supposed he couldn’t judge Miss Luna’s parameters for sanity, given the people in his life. 

‘So it will be safe for my Master and … and _his guest_ to come here?’

‘Yes,’ Miss Luna answered. ‘Evald and Veigo are on the case with me, and we have lots of information for Harry and Draco. Can you go and fetch them? And you’d be welcome to stay for tea.’

Kreacher managed to Disapparate before the expression evoked by the idea of Miss Luna’s cooking made it to his face. 

Master Harry was still arguing with the Malfoy whelp. 

‘Can’t you just accept help when it’s given to you freely?’ 

‘It’s never free, though, is it? There’s always a catch somewhere.’

‘Sometimes people just want to do the right thing. Because it’s right,’ Master Harry insisted. ‘If you can think of another reason why I’m running around Europe trying to keep you out of Azkaban, I’m all ears.’

‘I wish I could,’ said the Malfoy. ‘I don’t trust altruism, it usually just means the price is hidden.’

Kreacher coughed gently, scaring birds from the nearby trees. ‘If Master Harry wishes, Miss Luna says that it will be safe for you and … him,’ he glanced at the Malfoy boy, ‘to go to her house. We are all invited for tea. I would be very grateful if Master Harry asked Kreacher to make the tea, so that it isn’t made of herbs.’

‘Fabulous,’ said the Malfoy. ‘More tea.’

‘You can wait here,’ Master Harry offered. 

The Malfoy glared at him, so Kreacher glared at the Malfoy.

‘Luna’s then, Kreacher,’ said Master Harry. ‘Off we go.’ 

Kreacher waited until Master Harry had Disapparated before he turned to the Malfoy. 

‘I don’t know why my Master worries about what happens to you, but you should be grateful he does. He shouted at Auror Ron Weasley for your sake. Stop causing problems and let my Master fix things so you can go away.’

The Malfoy stared at him silently. 

Kreacher Disapparated and left the Malfoy to follow. With any luck, he’d Splinch himself.

****************************

The appearance of Estonian officials at a Kentish knifemaker’s had not overly surprised Luna. It was her experience that strange things happened so regularly that one was better off expecting them and saving one’s surprise for days that ran exactly to plan. 

They had been startled to see her there and had attempted to pretend they were tourists, but she had seen the close look they gave the photograph in her hands, and when she turned and asked if they were looking for clues to Pansy Parkinson’s murder, they had given up all pretence and introduced themselves. 

She had thanked Elsie Alder, the knifemaker, and promised her a free advert in the next _Quibbler_ , then escorted the Estonians from the shop to the nearest cafe and bought them tea.

Over beverages and cream buns she had proposed they share information and resources, and extracted promises that they would not arrest Harry and Draco. They confessed they were attempting to avert an embarrassing political incident and that quickly establishing Malfoy’s innocence – if he was in fact innocent, which they were yet to _prove_ as such – was in everyone’s best interests. She confessed that both Harry and Draco were due back at her place when they finished their current investigations, and suggested they may as well wait there, where the chairs were comfier. 

Veigo had bought a bag of cream buns for all. 

It did not take Harry long to appear after Kreacher’s visit. Luna was still waiting on the stairs for him, though she had sent the Estonians back inside. Kreacher and Draco followed, with Draco looking subdued. Luna looked quickly from him to Harry, and guessed that a fight was more likely the cause of his expression than abject failure with the case. 

‘I have news!’ she declared, hoping to hearten them. ‘And you have a terrible disguise!’ she accidentally added when she caught a proper look at Draco.

‘I don’t want to talk about it,’ said Draco.

‘Sorry. Stand still for a moment,’ Harry apologised, and returned Draco’s hair to its usual blond with a flick of his wand.

‘Evald Kask and Veigo Tamm are inside. They say they know you both and promise they’re not here to arrest you.’

‘We know a lot of people who didn’t do it,’ Draco said. 

‘And I have all the reports from the Floo people here,’ Harry added. ‘Plus a letter from Kingsley. Though I haven’t read it yet, I was too busy … arguing with Malfoy.’ He had the grace to look embarrassed at this last. 

‘Well come in and read it,’ Luna said, leading the way.

Evald and Veigo were already at the kitchen table, notes spread out in front of them. 

‘Harry, Draco,’ Evald greeted them. ‘You gave us quite the surprise this morning.’

‘Sorry about that,’ Harry apologised. ‘I didn’t want to get you into trouble, so it seemed best to leave you out of the loop.’

‘Well, we didn’t want to get you into trouble, so we have stepped into the loop with you both,’ Veigo said with a grin. He reached out his hand to shake Harry’s as Luna introduced them properly.

‘Meeli is covering for us back home,’ Evald explained. ‘We think that if we clear everything up before tomorrow lunchtime, then it is possible that people will believe Draco is very sick and under guard at Meeli’s holiday house and we will all keep our jobs.’

Draco shook his head. ‘You shouldn’t be risking them. None of you should.’ He stood up. ‘I’m going back to Tallinn and Meeli can send me back to the Wizengamot. Potter thinks he can prove I didn’t do it, that’s more than enough.’

‘Shut up and sit down, Malfoy,’ said Harry, not even looking up from the letter he was reading. 

Malfoy did, but Luna could see he wasn’t happy about it.

‘What does the Minister say?’ Luna asked, trying to ease tensions. 

Veigo handed out cream buns with the same intention.

Harry glanced up from the letter. ‘He says he hopes I know what I’m doing, and that he can’t find any evidence for a comprehensive plot against any of the targets we’ve suggested, though they have caught the stalker who’s been bothering the Weird Sisters for the last five months thanks to today’s surveillance. Apparently, unless someone attempts to off me soon, our invisible assassin theory is looking weak.’

‘Bugger …’ Draco whispered. 

Harry nodded agreement. 

‘Well, I have information,’ Luna said. ‘And so do Evald and Veigo. And you have a giant pile of papers from the Floo Regulation Panel. So stop looking so miserable. Kreacher, would you like a cream bun?’

Kreacher declared that he would prefer to make everyone tea and a light snack and Luna gave him the run of the kitchen, which seemed to please him.

‘I went and spoke to Elsie the knifemaker, and she said that the type of knife we were looking for was historical and very rare and that only a handful of people have ever had the skill to craft them properly. Most were made by the Quillion family, between 1580 and 1810. She said that this one looks like a genuine Quillion, probably from the later part of their production period, and it’s very unlikely to have been bought in the last century, since they’re practically all held in private collections and very highly valued.’

‘So the killer comes from an established wizarding family,’ Harry mused. 

‘Or is a thief,’ Draco countered.

‘Most people would have reported a theft like this,’ Harry said. ‘There was nothing in the MLE case files when I left yesterday, and I feel certain Kingsley would have mentioned it if a report had come in today.’

‘They may not have even noticed,’ said Draco. ‘Some houses are so full of stuff that it’s easy for things to go missing.’

‘Missing from humans,’ Kreacher croaked to himself over by the cooker.

‘What’s that, Kreacher?’ Harry called out. 

The little house-elf waddled over to them. ‘Witches and wizards miss things,’ Kreacher said. ‘But house-elves don’t. We send word to each other when something is lost, we look out for each other’s things so that our Mistresses and Masters can have them back if another elf has found them. Only when bad wizards take our things do we lose them for good.’

Luna smiled at Harry, who nodded his agreement. ‘Have you heard anything about a lost knife?’ he asked.

‘Not a word,’ Kreacher said decisively, then stumped back over to his cooking. 

‘So an established family without house-elves,’ Harry said. ‘That narrows things down.’

‘I’m assuming you checked out Weasley’s alibi at the same time you checked your own,’ Draco said. 

Harry ignored him and reached into his bag. ‘All right,’ he said. ‘This is the list of people we know were connected to Pansy. Let’s leave the ones we’ve already crossed out for now, we can recheck if we draw blanks everywhere else. This pile is a piece of luck,’ he patted the sheaf of papers from the Floo Regulation Panel, ‘it tells us everyone who was travelling on the Network in the region of Pansy’s Floo within the time frame of the murder. Let’s work our way through and see if we can find any matches.’

Harry divided the Floo papers into five piles, while Luna made four copies of the contacts list and handed out quills. They set to work, silent except for the slurping of tea and chewing of bun. 

After half an hour, Luna insisted they all get up and walk around in the garden for five minutes to refresh themselves. After an hour, Kreacher interrupted with a treacle tart and a rhubarb pie, which he declared Mistress Walburga had once insisted on for visiting dignitaries from _a_ Baltic nation, and if this wasn’t the right one, Kreacher couldn’t be blamed for trying.

Luna shooed everyone out into the garden to eat, bringing jugs of cream and custard. 

‘My eyes are crossing,’ Evald complained. ‘If we were back at work, we could have minions do this for us,’ he told Harry.

‘If we were back at work, you’d have me do it,’ Veigo agreed. ‘Which is why I am glad we’re here with the lovely Luna and this excellent pie.’

‘Can’t you just use one of your library spells,’ Draco asked Harry.

‘That one only works for sorting lists,’ Harry replied. ‘First we need to make the lists. The Floo information isn’t very well organised, if we tried to automate it, the spell would miss too many names. I’m afraid it’s a case of work rather than magic.’

Draco’s turned-up nose showed exactly what he thought about that. Luna wondered when it would finish returning to its normal shape, since Harry had clearly forgotten about it. 

‘We’re halfway through,’ she said. ‘It will all go a bit faster with full bellies, and there’s still plenty of light left in the day.’

They finished up their food and headed back in to research. This time they worked a little faster, buoyed by the rapidly diminishing piles of uninvestigated paper.

It was only a little after five-thirty when Veigo put down the last sheet of paper from his pile and they declared the work done. 

Now was the time for cataloguing and cross-referencing by spellwork, and Harry and Evald took over, quickly transforming hours of labour into a few short lists.

Harry picked up the first one as the quill stopped automatically writing. ‘This is everyone who was travelling in Pansy’s Floo Network Zone at the right time and who we know she knew. About forty names. This list,’ he indicated the second sheet of parchment that still had the quill scratching rapidly across its surface, ‘is everyone travelling in the zone who Pansy had some connection with, from school to known shopping habits. It’s looking quite a bit longer. OK, nearly two-hundred names on that one, I’d say. Let’s see if we get anything on the third …’

A fresh sheet of parchment fluttered its way to the top and waited, ready, under the quill. There was a pause, then a name was scribbled onto the parchment. Luna took Draco’s hand and squeezed it.

‘Who is it?’ he asked, and Luna felt his hand shake. 

Harry picked up the paper. ‘Herbert Crouch. He’s the only one travelling at the right time, who we know Pansy had contact with, and who has a record of violence on file.’

‘Herbert?’ Draco sounded shocked. ‘But he’s just a lonely old weasel. He was Pansy’s third or fourth cousin on her mother’s side, and he’s my fourth or fifth on mine, I can never keep track. Used his distant relationships as an excuse to invite himself to every party and then disappeared back into his hole the minute there was any trouble in either of the families. We all laugh at him. He’s nobody.’

Harry and Evald exchanged a look. Luna squeezed Draco’s hand again. ‘Maybe he knows that’s what you all thought?’ she suggested. ‘Maybe that’s why he targeted Pansy?’

Draco pressed his lips together tightly, then looked at Harry. ‘Let’s get him.’

Harry shook his head. ‘I can’t take you, Malfoy. He’s dangerous. He spent time in Azkaban in the 80s for an unprovoked attack on another wizard. If he was happy to kill Pansy, chances are he’ll be happy to take a shot at you. I’ll take Evald and Veigo, you wait here with Luna.’

Draco opened his mouth to argue, but Veigo was faster. ‘Please wait here,’ he said. ‘Our government believes you are under our protection and if we return with you battered or dead, there will be some very serious questions asked. Not everyone has Auror Potter’s history to protect them.’

Luna could see that it cost Draco, but he nodded his head and sat back on his chair, quiet and withdrawn. 

‘We’ll go now,’ Harry said. ‘ We’ll be as quick as we can, and we’ll come straight back.’

‘Good luck,’ said Luna. 

Draco said nothing, but glared at Harry, who opened his mouth to speak, then thought better of it, shrugged and set off with Evald and Veigo in tow.

‘GAAAAAAAH!’ said Draco, dropping his head onto the table and banging it three times.

‘I know what you’re thinking,’ Luna said.

‘I doubt it _very_ much,’ Draco muttered into the table.

‘You’re thinking that Harry is extremely annoying and you’re wishing you didn’t find him attractive.’

Draco sat bolt upright and stared at her. ‘What on earth? Luna, sometimes you horrify me.’

‘Well, he is quite good looking, and I was watching you when he stepped in to put his cloak around you both, and you had this expression on your face, which made me think …’

‘Stop thinking it!’ Draco shook his head, eyes wide. 

‘All right, I’m sorry. It just seemed to make sense. And it wouldn’t be the first time the two of you … No, I’m stopping. See, quiet! Like a mouse!’

Draco kept shaking his head. ‘It’s not that at all. Really. Truly. It’s just, he’s _so_ annoying, but here he is, saving me _again_ and he’s going to disappear again afterwards as though it never happened and I’m going to be left sitting around, alive and free, and back in my little box while Super Auror Harry Potter saves the world on a weekly basis. And he makes you think you’re in it together, and then he leaves you sitting at the table because it’s dangerous.

‘And it’s just … _everything_ works out well for him. And I can’t even begrudge him that, because, well, Voldemort. But I’ve had ten tortured years of coming to terms with my sexuality and the best I’ve managed is a quick handjob in a back alley from a friend who subsequently pretended he was drunk, and he shags Charlie Weasley without even trying, and that sort of thing is … Oh Merlin, that sounds every bit as pitiful as I think it does, doesn’t it?’

Luna smiled and patted Draco’s hand. 

‘I just wish … Sod it. Where’s my good-looking boy who’ll take my mind of my troubles? Do not give me that look, Luna Lovegood!’

‘I’m wondering if he’d introduce you to Charlie,’ Luna lied quickly.

Draco looked at her suspiciously, but let it pass. ‘I really would like to be able to hate him, it would all be so much simpler, but I just can’t. I miss sixth year. I really, really hated him in sixth year.’

‘I know you did,’ said Luna. And wondered if it would be too obvious if she stuck them in the same room for the evening.

‘You think he’s good looking?’ Draco asked after a little while. 

‘Well, he is: all dark hair and pale skin and lean muscle. You must have noticed that. Not that you’re unattractive, Draco. Many the Ravenclaw girl and boy longed after you when we were back at school.’

‘They never mentioned it to me.’

‘No, because you were an obnoxious little tit bent on death and destruction.’

‘There was that.’

Luna smiled at Draco, and he smiled back. There was a loud noise from the other side of the kitchen, like a comb being drawn across a saw. They jumped to their feet and had their wands out before they realised what it was. Then, creeping silently, they went to check. Kreacher was lying on the floor on a pile of tea towels, sound asleep and snoring. 

To Luna’s surprise, Draco crept back to the table, took the cloth that they had folded away and brought it in to cover the ancient elf. 

‘We should go up to the living room,’ Luna suggested. 

Draco nodded agreement and followed her up the staircase. He flopped down on the large sofa, and she took the other end, encouraging him to put his feet up on the low table positioned for just that purpose. 

‘I’ve been meaning to paint a mural in this room since we repaired it after the war, but between getting the _Quibbler_ out and trying to keep Dad from losing it, I never seem to find the time.’

‘How is your father?’ Draco asked. 

‘Half-mad. Yours?’

‘The same. But with less excuse.’

Luna smiled. ‘I’m surprised Harry told you about Charlie,’ she said. ‘It’s not common knowledge at all. ’

‘I only found out he’d split with Girl Weasley when Pansy showed me the “He’s Back On the Market” souvenir issue of _Witch Weekly_ ,’ Draco admitted. ‘What happened? I thought they were going to marry and have lots of babies, like Weasley and Granger.’

Luna laughed. ‘So did she. So did Harry for a bit. But you know him, he’s staggeringly oblivious. Ginny spent a year telling him that he needed to pay more attention to her and their relationship, or she’d leave him for Viktor Krum, and he spent a year saying he was going to if she could just wait a little, and in the end …’

‘She left him for Viktor Krum,’ Draco finished the sentence for her.

‘It was quite friendly, really. She wanted someone who was home at nights, and who wanted children, and she loves the Quidditch circuit, so Viktor’s happy, and Harry wasn’t sad the way I thought he would be, so …’ she shrugged. ‘What about you, Draco? What have you been up to with your life?’

‘Nothing.’

He said it as though he meant it, which Luna found inexpressibly sad. She wanted to tell him that clearly it hadn’t been nothing for all this time, because Pansy had obviously loved him dearly, but she knew that would only make things worse. Instead she tossed him a copy of the current _Quibbler_. 

‘There’s an excellent story on the magical fauna in common fungi, page fifteen. Or you can race me on the crossword,’ she offered.

‘Did you set the crossword?’ Draco asked. 

‘Yes, so you can have a twenty-second start.’

It was worth saying something ridiculous to bring that smile to his face. 

‘And what about you, Luna? What are you doing with life?’

‘Putting out the _Quibbler_ , taking care of Dad, studying Cryptozoology, and making a new friend,’ she said, leaning over to pat his knee.

That smile was even better.

It was nearly an hour before they heard the pops of Apparition and voices downstairs. Luna beat Draco down the stairs by a hair’s breadth, and was nearly at the door when Evald came in supporting a bloodied Veigo and trailed by a battered Harry. 

She felt Draco come to a stop behind her and heard his whispered ‘Potter’. Without turning, she ordered, ‘Draco, wake Kreacher, get water, and we’ll need those tea towels to clean this lot up.’

Evald brought Veigo to the table and lowered him gently to a chair. He was less damaged than Luna had feared, most of the blood came from a single shallow cut at his hairline, and a bruise was spilling down across his forehead. Draco appeared with two bowls of water – one hot, one cold – and cloths. 

‘Do you need help?’ he asked.

‘It’s only a bump,’ Veigo insisted. ‘I can clean it up myself, no point getting blood on your hands, beautiful Luna.’

Luna smiled, and kept going. 

On the other side of the table Draco took a wet towel over to Harry and Kreacher glared up at his wizard.

Harry half-smiled an apology at both of them. ‘Violent weasel,’ he explained, mopping dirt from his face. ‘Even with three of us there and no chance for escape, he tried to fight his way out. We had the better of him, but he dropped a ceiling beam on Veigo and me. Luckily, we mostly got out of the way in time.’ 

Draco handed over a second towel. ‘Was it him?’

‘Don’t know,’ Harry admitted. ‘It might be. It’s all being sorted now, I called in Ron. There’s no-one I trust more, and he’s a very good investigator. Really.’

‘I’m sure he is,’ Draco muttered.

Kreacher tsked and shook his head. ‘Master Harry should have taken Kreacher with him if there was going to be violence.’

‘Next time.’ Harry promised. 

‘Are you hurt?’ Draco asked. 

‘Just a few bruises. Mostly dust. My jacket took the brunt of it.’

‘So he tried to kill you.’

Harry grinned. ‘Told you he was violent!’

‘It’s not funny, Potter.’

‘It’s all in a day’s work. Very Bad People often prefer to drop houses on Aurors rather than come quietly. It’s why we have a two-year training program, and really sturdy boots.’

‘I take it your toes are fine.’

‘Wholly unbruised.’

Veigo hissed, and Luna focussed on cleaning up his cut. He smiled devotedly up at her and called her his beautiful nurse. 

‘He’s not concussed,’ Evald said. ‘I checked. I think he’s just taking advantage of the situation to make a move.’

‘Shut up, Evald,’ said Veigo.

Luna laughed at them both. 

Once the blood was mopped up, and ice-cubes produced and wrapped in yet more tea towels, to be held to bruised heads and shoulders, Luna led them all back upstairs with the remains of the afternoon’s pies. Kreacher alone stayed behind, promising to cook up something nourishing, despite the fact that Luna had plenty of Plimpy soup she could reheat.

‘I’m very glad that none of you were seriously hurt,’ she told the Aurors. ‘But what happened? There were three of you and one of him.’

‘It started out well,’ said Evald. ‘Harry knocked on the door, Mr Crouch opened it, they chatted politely for a minute, Harry asked if we could come in, he said yes, Harry said we had a few questions, he dropped part of his house on Harry and Veigo. I was standing quietly in the corner, so I was able to get the drop on him while Harry held the beam up. Once we had him subdued, Harry sent an Owl to Ron, and then we had to get out of there very quickly before the Aurors showed up.’

‘Did you have a chance to question him? Look around for any evidence?’ Draco asked.

‘No,’ said Harry. ‘But we could smell what had to be a potion bubbling away somewhere, and he did shout that we couldn’t prove he did it, so I’m cautiously optimistic.’

Draco nodded. ‘Good. All right. That’s that.’

Luna could see that he was breathing rather quickly.

‘Draco, I’ve left my notebook outside somewhere,’ she said. ‘Come and help me look for it?’

He nodded, tight-lipped, and followed her down the stairs and out of the house. She led him down to the back of the garden and took his hands. ‘Breathe,’ she advised. ‘Just breathe for a minute. Everything is easier once you have air in you.’

‘I don’t think I can,’ he said, clinging to her grip. ‘It feels like someone is sitting on my chest.’

‘I know. Just try an easy one, in through your nose, out through your mouth. That’s it. And another. Perfect. Keep going.’

She stood and breathed with him for a minute, remembering an afternoon like this years ago, when the sun had been golden and pollen and butterflies had danced through the air beyond the motes of ash that had once been her mother and when her own lungs had felt as though they would never do her bidding again, and how just filling them and flooding her blood with oxygen had been a miracle, because it meant that she was alive, and that she would go on, and that she could cry and mourn and do everything else, if only she could go on breathing.

Tears began to track down Draco’s face and she let go of his hands and drew him down to her shoulder, then held him, and let him cry. 

It was a few minutes before she heard the sound of footsteps on the gravel path. Harry slowed almost to a stop when he saw them, but she beckoned him closer. 

‘Are you all right, Malfoy?’ he asked, putting a hand on Draco’s shoulder.

Draco nodded, and used his cuffs to mop up his face. ‘I just …’

‘I know,’ Harry said. ‘I know exactly.’

Luna looked at him with gentle eyes, because she knew that he did. They all did. Draco sniffed, and smiled a little, and managed a ‘Thanks, Potter.’ 

And then they heard the snap of displaced air and Ron Weasley was standing at the top of the garden, looking around with a frown. 

Harry waved to him, and he stalked over, shaking his head. 

‘Harry, I swear, if you get us sacked over Malfoy, Hermione will kill you. Hello Malfoy, sorry for your loss. Luna, good to see you.’

‘Ron,’ said Luna in greeting.

‘So?’ said Harry. 

‘Good news and bad,’ Ron replied. ‘You’ve caught _a_ murderer, he’s just not the right one. I found pieces of two Muggles in his basement: he was using body parts to make hair-restoring lotion. Sick and twisted, and people were paying him ten Galleons a bottle.’

Draco stumbled, and Luna moved to catch him, but Harry had beaten her to it. 

‘But then …’ Draco said.

‘We will keep looking,’ Harry promised. ‘It’s been one day.’

Luna watched, as Draco nodded, and did not move away from Harry’s supportive arm.

‘Harry tells me it definitely wasn’t you,’ Ron told Draco, with what was clearly intended as kindness, even if it came out a little gruffly. ‘I didn’t think it could be, you were always loyal to your friends.’ 

‘Thank you, Weasley,’ said Draco, without stiffness. He turned to Luna. ‘We should let Evald and Veigo know. And I could do with a cup of tea.’

She took his arm. ‘I’ll put the kettle on. Harry? Ron?’

With orders for one tea and one cocoa, she headed in with Draco, hoping that he couldn’t hear Ron’s ‘Seriously, Harry, traipsing all over Europe after Malfoy? What do you think this is, Sixth Year?’

The bad news was shared, beverages made, and everyone reassembled in the living room, chased out of the kitchen by Kreacher, whose dinner was reaching epic and delicious-smelling proportions. Luna sat next to Draco on the long sofa, and was unsurprised when Harry took the other side.

‘The rest of the team have taken Crouch back to the Ministry,’ Ron was explaining. ‘He was still groggy from being stunned by you, so our MediWizard gave him a sedative and he’s not going to be talking for at least twelve hours. I’ve told them it was Owled in to me as an anonymous tip, and everyone thinks it was one of Crouch’s relatives who’s stumbled onto the situation, taken him down in a fight and then not wanted to have his name connected with the scene. Which is not entirely wrong.

‘The office received official word about your continuance in Tallinn late this afternoon, so they’re not expecting you back until tomorrow. What are you going to do?’

‘We go back to Tallinn in the morning,’ Draco said. ‘Potter’s right, it’s been one day. It was overly optimistic to think there was a chance of cracking the case in twelve hours, so we’ll go back and go through the proper channels.’

Harry nodded agreement. ‘I’m going to present my findings to the Estonian court and the Wizengamot, see if I can have them both rescind their warrants. They were only granted because Malfoy fled the scene, but anyone could lose their head if they came across the body of their best friend. Mr Parkinson will be a problem, but his evidence points towards Malfoy’s innocence, too, and if we have a chance to talk to him calmly, he might see that and be able to help us look for the real killer.’

‘Good,’ said Ron. ‘That sounds like a normal, sensible, sane plan.’

‘You’ve become very responsible since you’ve been a father,’ Luna said, remembering a month ago when he had run mostly naked through her garden down to the stream shrieking that he was going to have a swim before the sun disappeared for another fortnight.

‘Would you like to see a picture?’ he asked. ‘She’s gorgeous.’

Nearly a half hour later, Ron finally put all the baby pictures back in his wallet and declared that he had to be getting home before his wife started to worry when Kreacher stomped up the stairs to announce that dinner was ready. 

It was a brilliant dinner, the sort of thing that Luna had rarely sat down to since leaving school. Somewhere between the soup and the lamb pie, the mood around the table lightened and they began to hatch plans for the continued search. 

‘We haven’t followed up any of the knife leads,’ Veigo insisted. ‘There must be families who are known to have items like that, and if we can track the one that was stolen from Harry’s house, maybe it would lead us to someone who deals in that sort of artefact.’

Evald agreed. ‘And there are so many people to chase down who had access on the Floo. We’ve only just begun.’

‘I thought you had Estonian Auroring to do,’ Draco said, with a smile.

‘It’s a very law-abiding country, not like Britain. We will take holidays and help with the investigation. It will be a cross-cultural experience.’

Draco’s smile grew at that, and he even took a second piece of pie. 

Over pudding, Luna tried to organise accommodation for the night. ‘I meant to add more guest bedrooms when we rebuilt, but never got around to it,’ she apologised. ‘Someone can have Dad’s room, or two of you could share, and the sofa is comfy …’

‘I could share with you,’ Veigo attempted, ever-optimistic. 

‘Don’t worry about me,’ Evald said. ‘I’m going home for the evening to let Meeli know what’s happening.’

‘I’m happy with a sofa,’ said Draco. ‘Or a chair. I don’t think I’ll get a lot of sleep.’

‘And I have a tent,’ said Harry.

‘Marvellous,’ said Luna. ‘I’ll sort out towels for all, we have extras if anyone would like to bathe, the stream is lovely and deep at this time of year.’ 

And no sooner had she spoken than everyone, including Evald, realised that it was a beautiful warm summer’s evening, and that nothing would be better than to be washed clean by fresh running water. 

Which is why, a short time later, Luna felt her skin warm in the late-afternoon sun as she led a line of four wizards and one house-elf down the long hill towards the sparkling ribbon of water that marked her stream. And as she sat on the bank, with her feet in the water, and watched the others flopping into the water in their smalls, she felt certain that it would all work out. Even if she had no idea how.

****************************

Swimming had been a good idea, Harry thought. They were all physically and mentally grimy from the day, and yet here it was lovely, and the water was cool and fresh.

He and Evald had sorted out plans for the morning: as long as Harry, Veigo and Draco could be at Meeli’s by eight, Evald would have a new prisoner’s uniform for Draco, a suitably large pile of dirty dishes in the sink, and a doctor to declare that Draco was fit to attend the hearing, arriving at about a quarter to nine. 

Luna had taken Veigo up to her father’s room, allegedly to check on his head wound and amuse him with board games, but Harry had heard the door close firmly behind them. Someone was benefitting from all this running around in circles, he reflected, ruefully.

Harry had made Kreacher a nest of pillows and blankets in the kitchen, and he had declared it a very fine thing, before flopping down to snore cheerfully. Harry was glad he was here, rather than alone back at Grimmauld Place. He knew Kreacher was happiest when he could keep an eye on him, and to be honest, it was nice to know there was an eye being kept.

And then Malfoy.

Malfoy had come back from the stream, dried off and dressed in another set of Harry’s clothes, and then sat down to read his way through all the case notes again. He hadn’t even looked up when Evald had left, only nodding assent to the morning plan. 

Harry had found him a quill, and fresh parchment for note-making, and then made him a cup of tea when he was still going after an hour. It was odd to see Malfoy so intent on a task that wasn’t going to end in disaster. Harry smiled. He hadn’t been an idiot getting Malfoy out of there. It had been the right decision, whatever Ron thought.

Malfoy looked up and caught the smile. He looked confused.

‘I was just thinking that we’ve made it through nearly twelve hours, and there’s still no sign of homicide,’ Harry said. ‘Pansy would be proud of us.’

‘She’d be worried we were sick,’ Malfoy replied, with a little smile of his own. ‘Can I get you to have a look at this?’ he asked, indicating the papers in front of him.

Harry moved over to the sofa and looked at the notes spread out on the low table.

‘See here, and here,’ Malfoy pointed. ‘Someone from the Brown house was travelling on the Floo Network at the right times.’

‘You don’t suspect Lavender?’ Harry asked.

‘Of course not. But I do want to know why Pansy’s Aunt Marjorie called her “poor Lavender”.’

‘I’ve been planning to check that out,’ Harry admitted.

‘Have you seen her since the War?’ 

‘No. You?’

Malfoy shook his head. ‘You don’t think … I mean, I saw her fall, and then Greyback made a lunge in her direction …’

‘Hermione stopped him,’ Harry said, with more certainty than he felt. ‘And there was no funeral. We’d have heard.’

Malfoy nodded, and didn’t point out that there had been so many funerals it had been hard to keep track, for which Harry was grateful.

‘I just think it would be worth talking to Mr Brown,’ said Malfoy.

Harry looked at Malfoy’s face. ‘I think you’re right.’ He thought for a moment. Peter Brown was moderately old, respectable and not someone he knew anything about, which spoke well for his law-abiding qualities.

‘We could go tonight,’ Harry offered. ‘I think it should be fine, it’s still light, so he probably hasn’t gone to bed.’

‘Should we take Veigo and Luna?’

Harry glanced at the ceiling. ‘I think it would be best to leave them,’ he said, diplomatically. 

‘Oh,’ said Malfoy. ‘Right. Well, we’ve been questioning people all day, one more should be fine. Do you want to Transfigure my hair and nose again?’

Harry couldn’t help laughing. ‘I don’t think it will be necessary. Does he know you well?’

‘Not at all, personally, but he might have seen me in the _Prophet_ over the years.’

‘Wear a hat?’ 

Malfoy pulled a face, but he did search through the collection on the hatstand and decide on a tartan cap, which he pulled on before they left. The Floo Regulation Panel had provided them with the Browns’ address, so Harry Apparated them there, pausing to remind Malfoy to draw his wand before he knocked on the front door: ‘Just in case.’

Mr Brown answered the door cautiously. ‘Can I help you?’ he asked, the suggestion that it was an unreasonable time for visitors clearly audible, if unspoken. 

He looked vaguely familiar to Harry, probably from him seeing Lavender off at King’s Cross. ‘Good evening, Mr Brown, my name is Harry Potter, we’re here from the Auror Office. I’m investigating the murder of Pansy Parkinson and I believe you saw her at her aunt’s house a few days before her death.’

‘Harry Potter,’ Mr Brown said. ‘My Lavender used to talk about you when you were at school together. Come in, come in. Yes, dreadful business.’

He showed them through to the living room, which was large, and cluttered with items ranging from baskets of clean washing to unopened packets of dog biscuits. Harry looked around, but couldn’t see a dog. 

‘How is Lavender?’ Harry asked.

‘As well as can be expected,’ Mr Brown said, absently. ‘Since her mother left us, things have gone downhill in the housework stakes, as you can see …’

‘It’s not an issue,’ Harry reassured him, waiting for Mr Brown to sit down then taking the seat nearest him. ‘I was hoping that you could help us reconstruct some of Pansy’s actions in the days before her death. I understand you saw her at her Aunt Marjorie’s?’

‘Yes, yes she came to visit. She wanted her aunt’s advice, but didn’t want to intrude. She stayed for a cup of tea. She was only a little thing, much smaller than I thought. So delicate.’

Harry nodded slowly. Mr Brown was watching him intently, and didn’t seem to have even noticed Malfoy prowling around the room.

‘And had you seen her much before then? Or visited her father recently?’

‘No. No, I hadn’t seen the Parkinsons for years, except Marjorie, of course. She and I were at school together. Like you, and my poor Lavender.’

‘How _is_ Lavender, Mr Brown?’ Harry asked again.

Mr Brown gave a short laugh. ‘Not everyone came through the War as well as you did, Harry. Not every sacrifice was rewarded. We make do, we get by.’

Harry’s eyes took in the calendar on the wall behind Mr Brown’s head. It was the type that had the phases of the moon marked on it, and in the square for the previous Thursday, there was a small red cross. 

‘Where’s Lavender?’ Harry asked, all gentleness gone from his voice. 

‘Potter.’

Harry turned around to see Malfoy lifting a small towel from one of the washing baskets. It had a red ‘P’ embroidered in one corner.

There was a growl behind him, and Harry turned, wand drawn, but Mr Brown was already thrown back by a Stunner from Malfoy, and so all that remained was to conjure ropes and tie him firmly to the chair. 

And then he turned around. 

Malfoy’s wand was still clenched in his fist, halfway up, but he was breathing with determined slowness, and not opening his mouth.

‘You did it,’ Harry said.

Malfoy nodded. He tucked his wand into the waistband of his trousers, then folded the towel neatly and put it into his pocket. 

‘Pansy’s mum will want that,’ he said. ‘We should go and find Lavender.’

Harry checked the ropes were secure, took Mr Brown’s wand, and moved him and the chair he was tied to out into the centre of the floor. Putting a locking charm on the living room doors, he and Malfoy went to search the house. 

They found an elaborate Potions set-up in the kitchen, with a brew decanted into several small silver bottles, all labelled with dates over the next two weeks, and carefully handwritten instructions beside bags of ingredients. 

Malfoy read the spell quickly. ‘A werewolf cure,’ he said. ‘Wouldn’t have worked.’

They kept searching. 

All traces of Mrs Brown had been removed from the house, but Lavender’s room was still clean and tidy, with her schoolbooks and personal possessions neatly arranged, as though by a curatorial hand. There was even a diary that proclaimed ‘Mrs Lavender Weasley’ on the back cover. 

It was Malfoy who found her, down in the cellar, its entrance hidden at the back of the pantry. Strong bars had been erected, forming a gated cell that took up most of the room. Lavender was inside, lying on a bed that was basic, though clean. There was a shackle around her ankle, and a long chain leading back to a bolt sunk into the stone wall. There was little furniture: a chair, a crate full of books, another crate with a tray balanced on it and a bucket for a lavatory, which Harry could smell from here. There was food on the tray, it was untouched but the water carafe was empty.

‘Lavender?’ Malfoy called, as Harry burst the lock on the gate.

She sat up groggily as they both ran in towards her. 

‘Harry!’ she whispered, focussing on him, then, ‘Draco! You?’

She started to laugh. It wasn’t a healthy laugh. Harry looked at Malfoy, who grabbed the carafe and ran out of the cellar. Abandoned, he sat carefully on the bed beside Lavender and held out a hand to her. 

‘Hiya Lavender,’ he said. ‘You don’t look the best.’

She clutched at his hand, and started to sob great wet hiccoughing sobs. Malfoy returned with water and a glass. Harry held a glassful out to Lavender and gently suggested she take a sip. 

She managed one, which calmed her enough for a second and then a third. 

Her hair was a nest of tangles, and she looked very thin to Harry, with blue circles around her eyes and grey lips.

‘Have you eaten, Lavender?’ Draco asked. 

‘Not lately,’ she answered, in a croaky voice. ‘Dad’s put something all over my food, I think he’s done something terrible.’

‘Potter, there’s food in your bag,’ Malfoy reminded him.

Harry summoned one of the pies. 

‘Just a little,’ Malfoy warned. ‘Or you’ll be sick. I got this way once during the War, didn’t want to eat anything I couldn’t identify.’

Lavender gave a weak smile at that, and nibbled at the pastry with restraint. 

‘How long have you been down here?’ Malfoy asked. 

‘A while,’ Lavender evaded. ‘It used to be a lot nicer, and there’s usually lots of water and good things to eat, but Dad’s been angry at me this week, because I didn’t want to take that potion.’

‘Did Greyback bite you?’ Harry asked gently.

A sob burst from her compulsively, but she fought back control. ‘No,’ she whispered. ‘Just a scratch. But he never believed me. He kept waiting for me to turn. And when I’d shout and yell and try to escape, he’d say it was the wolf coming out. He Obliviated Mum, I don’t know where she’s gone. I don’t think she even remembers me.’

‘Lavender, how long have you been here?’ Harry asked. 

And when she didn’t answer, Malfoy said, ‘Eight years?’

And when she nodded, Harry was halfway out of the cellar before he felt strong arms restraining him and he wanted to fight them off, but instead he let himself be stopped, and he dropped his head, and felt the touch of Malfoy’s forehead as it met his own. 

‘I know,’ said Malfoy. ‘But you were right. There has to be a difference between us and them. Even when we don’t want there to be.’ And then he stepped away, and Harry was left standing alone just when he didn’t want to be.

They called in Kingsley, and Ron. 

There was no choice, really, even though Hermione was now almost certainly going to kill Harry. At least Harry had the sense to Owl for the Minister first, so it was Kingsley Lavender clung to while they decided whether it would be better to take her to St Mungo’s or to call the MediWizards to attend there. 

Mr Brown had regained consciousness and was attempting to explain that it was not as though he had had any option, and that it had been necessary to purge the taint from Lavender’s flesh, and that they should not let her roam free because she was a danger to all of them, really …

Ron arrived full of annoyance, which evaporated immediately on seeing the scene. ‘Go,’ he said to Harry and Malfoy. ‘I’ve got this.’

Suddenly exhausted, Harry thanked him, and Kingsley, and turned to Malfoy. Who was staring at Mr Brown.

Harry did not move his hand towards his wand.

‘She deserved better,’ said Malfoy. ‘My friend Pansy. She was a good friend, and a loving daughter. She was decent, and funny, and kind. And your Lavender deserved better, too. I hope one day you’re sane enough to know that. And to do what you can for Lavender.’

Harry put an arm around his shoulders, and led him towards the door. 

‘Draco,’ called Ron, before they could step through it. ‘Good work, yeah? Well done.’

And Malfoy smiled at that.

‘I’ll see you tomorrow,’ Harry said, and shut the door behind them.

The sun had not long set, which was ridiculous, because it felt as though they had been in there for hours. The last gold was dripping below the horizon, and the sky fading through pink and violet. Harry walked them down the steps, away from the house, to the rough road that ran into the village. 

Anything he said would be wrong at the moment, so he just walked. 

They made it to the old mill bridge before Malfoy stopped. 

‘That was horrible,’ he said.

Harry nodded.

‘We should go back to Luna’s. Your house-elf will think I’ve murdered you and come after me.’

Harry smiled. ‘I’ll get us back,’ he said, and took Malfoy’s arm again.

He took them to Luna’s front garden. Spiky stems of teasles looked alien and strange in the blue-grey light, but the sweet fragrance of phlox and honeysuckle reassured him. 

Malfoy stood still, looking up at the towering house. ‘Do you think anyone’s awake inside?’ he asked.

Harry couldn’t help himself. He giggled. Malfoy took a moment longer to recall Veigo’s shameless pursuit of Luna, and then he was giggling, too. They didn’t bother to stop until they ran out of breath, and then everything was just a bit easier than it had been.

‘Maybe we should put the tent up?’ Malfoy suggested. 

‘Or I could transform the sofa and chairs in the living room,’ Harry offered. ‘I’ve slept on the tent bunks, they’re less than ideal.’

‘Sounds good.’

Malfoy led the way in, pausing to grab leftovers from dinner and afternoon tea. ‘I’m hungry now,’ he whispered in reply to Harry’s bemused look.

And when Malfoy put the plates and bowls down on the table in the living room, Harry realised that he was hungry, too. They both ate sparingly and silently for a quarter hour, but everything tasted better to Harry than it had earlier in the day.

‘I knew you could do it,’ Malfoy told his slice of rhubarb pie. 

‘I would have missed it if you hadn’t been there,’ Harry replied, putting his plate down. 

‘Not for long.’

‘Maybe not, but Lavender would have spent all the time it took me in her jail, starving.’

Malfoy shivered and put his own plate down. ‘I feel as though it should be raining. Or snowing. It should be grey, and miserable, all this week. But today was beautiful.’

‘It was,’ Harry agreed. ‘And tomorrow will be, too. Which is good. Every time I feel despair, I find comfort in simple things like the warm sun, and clear water, and the smells of a well-tended garden.’ And because he was honest, he added, ‘And Quidditch, and food.’

Which made Malfoy smile. 

‘I’m all for food,’ he agreed. ‘And Quidditch. And those other things are also good.’

‘We could go for a Snitch-chase after we sort things out for you tomorrow,’ Harry offered.

Malfoy looked sceptical. 

‘I can give myself a half-day,’ Harry said.

‘And spend it with me?’

Harry shrugged. ‘I’m going for the record time in Malfoy company without an attempted assault.’ 

‘That was passed around lunchtime, wasn’t it?’

‘About then, yes.’

Malfoy smiled again. ‘Flying does sound more fun than going home and waiting to see if my Father ever gets around to apologising.’

‘And Kreacher can threaten you occasionally if you’re missing the abuse,’ Harry offered. 

Malfoy thumped him with a sofa cushion.

‘Restarting the clock,’ Harry announced, with exaggerated grievance.

‘That was never assault,’ Malfoy protested. ‘More an affectionate laddish expression of …’

‘Of what?’ Harry asked lightly.

‘Affection?’ Malfoy suggested, tentatively.

‘Well that’s all right then,’ said Harry, and smiled as Malfoy let go of the breath he’d been holding.

And Harry kissed him then, because if he waited until he had the perfect thing to say, or until it was the exactly right moment, then it was going to be at least another eight years of thinking he should have said or done something when he had the chance.

And Malfoy kissed him back, though Harry wasn’t sure if he was shivering or laughing, but it didn’t seem like an ideal time to stop to find out. Harry moved to push Malfoy back onto the sofa just as Malfoy attempted the same in reverse, and they spilled onto the floor, and it was definitely laughter then.

Which was fine. They laughed together, in a tangle of limbs, and Malfoy carefully took Harry’s glasses off and put them on the table, which rendered everything soft-focus, and then there was more kissing, and the knocking of an elbow each into table legs, and redemption for the sofa cushion as it was dragged down and made into a pillow for them both.

‘This is bound to end in disaster,’ Malfoy told him.

‘We can stop,’ Harry offered. 

Malfoy laid a firm and restraining hand on his chest. ‘One thing I’ve learned, we’re both quite good at weathering disaster.’

Harry smiled. ‘I’ll keep you safe from Kreacher if you stop your father hexing me,’ he offered. 

‘Kreacher will come round,’ Malfoy corrected him. ‘In time. Regulus was my second cousin, I’m a Black, really.’

Harry covered Malfoy’s hand with his own, surprised to see how similarly sized they were. ‘Do you mind?’ he asked. ‘We could just be friends, if you’d rather.’

‘No we couldn’t!’ Malfoy said with a laugh. ‘We’d be terrible at it. Anyway, you don’t get to snog me silly and then take it back. For a start, I know you’re sober.’

‘Completely,’ Harry agreed.

‘Good.’ Malfoy leaned over and kissed Harry lightly. ‘But we should probably take things a bit slowly. Because Luna’s sofa is not ideal. And not everyone has been off shagging Charlie Weasley.’

‘Actually, _almost_ everybody …’

‘Shut up, Potter.’ And Malfoy kissed him again to show it was without malice. ‘We should get some sleep. We need to get up early in the morning.’

‘Before six,’ Harry agreed. ‘Tallinn’s two hours ahead, and we’ll need to stop by my place for a Portkey.’

‘If we sleep with our clothes on, that’s ten extra minutes in the morning.’

‘And it gives even odds we’ll be able to take things slowly tonight,’ Harry teased. ‘Unless you’d rather I slept on the armchair.’

‘No,’ said Malfoy, hauling them both to their feet and moving the table out into the centre of the room. He Transfigured the sofa into a broad bed, with what looked like good linen sheets. ‘But shoes off. I prefer to sleep on the right side. You?’

‘Left. That could be the basis for a successful ongoing thing right there.’

‘An “ongoing thing”. Potter, you suave romantic fool.’

‘Shut up.’ Harry kicked off his shoes and climbed into bed, pronouncing it ‘Surprisingly comfortable.’ 

‘My family have a lot of good household spells,’ Malfoy said, carefully undoing his laces and leaving his boots beside the bed with a sock tucked into each. ‘Malfoy Manor is really a two-bedroom bungalow underneath all the enchantments.’

Harry laughed, and Malfoy looked pleased. He climbed into bed, a little awkwardly, and turned out the lights. Harry felt the shift as Malfoy turned to him, he reached out until he could touch him. 

‘Are you going to get in trouble?’ Malfoy asked.

‘Hardly. Ron and Kingsley were genuinely impressed with you, and since we’ve caught the real culprit, I’m afraid it will go down as a great success on my part, rather than shameful rule-breaking.’

‘No, I meant, your friends, and your work. I mean, I’m … well, I’m who I am.’

Harry wished he could see Malfoy’s face. ‘Back at school, Ron was convinced I was obsessed with you. It will just give him another irritating proof of his own superiority.’ He could feel Malfoy smile against his hand.

‘You were usually trying to hex me back then,’ Malfoy reminded him.

‘I was confused. It was a trying time. What about you? Are you going to be all right?’

Malfoy nodded. ‘Though I fear Luna and Milly will strike up a friendship.’

‘That is genuinely frightening,’ Harry agreed. He allowed Malfoy to pull him close, and rested his hand on the stretch of bare skin where Malfoy’s shirt had pulled loose, resisting the temptation to explore. 

‘And I don’t want to think about Pansy’s reaction if there’s an afterlife.’

Harry kept a tactful silence. 

‘But for a day with as many awful things in it as this one has contained, it’s ended up very well.’

And then he kissed Harry sleepily, and Harry kissed him back, and considered suggesting they decamp to Grimmauld Place, where there was coffee and privacy, but by the time he’d formulated the plan, he was mostly asleep, too. 

Which is why when he saw Luna tip-toeing down the stairs in the moonlight a little while later, with a chessboard tucked under her arm, he at first assumed he was dreaming. She snuck past them to stow it on a bookshelf, then turned to creep back out, pausing at the stairs to whisper, ‘I knew you were fibbing, Draco.’

And Harry felt Draco’s face curve up into a smile, and his hair moved with Malfoy’s whispered reply of, ‘And I knew you were quite right.’ The explanation of which, like everything else, could wait until tomorrow.


End file.
